4 November 2026

Halloween ’26

Another Halloween is come and gone.
Another season for the books. It is a month long celebration, the actual night is usually bittersweet. I am left with the joy of an evening well spent and the sorrow of fall being almost over, of pumpkins and fog, of fallen leaves crunching underfoot and beautiful decorations being rapidly replaced with red and green and Christmas things.
Halloween is wonderful not for the gore and ghosts that people sometimes want to celebrate but for the beauty of fall and the joy of dressing up.
We spent the evening in our small town, children turned loose to run with us parents trailing slowly behind. Not because they need watched but to share in the enjoyment of the night. They ran and shrieked dashing house to house. They disappeared inside of houses without a worry or care. They left us far behind as we old folk needed to sit and rest a moment watching as Halloween passed us by.
Children came and went as we tried to keep a basic count on the children we were supposed to have along trying to figure out who various extra masked creatures might be. Night fell and fog rolled in drifting over lights and decorations. Having covered most of the town and lost the majority of extra monsters we staggered exhausted back to the car, ready to be home to rest.
The children chattered excitedly recalling friends they had met and houses they had visited. No demons just joy. Plans for the next year. And sadness as we say good bye to the beautiful pumpkins, fall leaves, corn, all the best things in life until next year.
Category: 8, Family, Goblin Child | LEAVE A COMMENT
30 October 2026

Hemingford Trunk or Treat

We stumbled into it by accident.
We were there on purpose but we hadn’t expected quite so much. There for a haunted house put on by the school as a fund raiser we found the whole street blocked off and children wandering about in costume.
At first we were confused. Were we in the right place? Had they forgotten to mention that this was an even for every small children?
Hesitantly we got out of the car and followed the trail of families.
As we passed one business then two, we realized it was an organized trick or treat. Every business in town was decorated and handing out candy. The first one we passed insisted the kids each take a piece of candy as my children politely tried to decline because they weren’t in costume.
Each place we passed insisted just the same. Teenagers handing candy out of the back of old pickups laughed and joked making conversation. Small children waddled along next to parent. Laughing and surprised we joined in.
Up and down main street we walked admiring and accepting candy forced upon us in that typical midwest hospitality. The weather was cool, the trees dripping golden leaves, the small town was picturesque. It could not get any better.
We did finally make it to the haunted house. It was delightful, quaint in the best way possible as high school kids got to play dress up and enjoy themselves without the requirement to be cool that is the normal in daily life.
Leaving town we wandered down side streets, looked at the decorations in yards, admired the beauty of a small town. This is what Halloween is about.

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7 October 2026

Cat Math

Cat math is like chicken math.
We lost one cat so my daughter had permission to get one more.
We ended up with three. They were settled in the barn where they could keep the mouse population nicely under controll. Until they moved to the house and joined the others in patrolling the back door least we should try to come and go from the house in peace.
Then the stray kitten wandered in. She began her life here by trying to walk under the hooves of all four horses. At once. Having survived that my daughter took over and moved her to the barn where she was fed, watered, and thoroughly loved.
Until we tried to work on equipment with her underfoot. She nearly died, several times. We all did really. So she was brought to the house to join the others. At least she’ll only trip us as we walk here. Better than being smashed as heavy equipment is worked on.
And then I tried to work horses.
All of the cats dove underfoot. Under the horse’s feet that is. The yellow one sat behind Sunshine, their coats matching perfectly, and batted at his tail. It might have been the yellow one again who dove under my youngest horse as I held her. Causing her to try to dive over the top of me. The newest black kitty who my daughter cherishes, has no fear of horse hooves. She would stand between them while I held my breath and tried to shoo her away. Which resulted in twining about my feet purring.
In the end I moved my horse trailer/tack room clear across the yard. The big yard. It is far away from cats and the haven’t found it or me yet as I try to work horses. The long walk is well worth it to not smash any darling kittens beneath the horse’s feet.
Dangs cats, I mutter under my breath as I swing yet another purring kitten into my arms to scratch. We need to cut back on all these dang cats.

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28 September 2026

Butter

My kitchen is a mess. The sink is over flowing with dirty dishes. Strange pink stuff is splattered everywhere
And I couldn’t be happier.
The house is full to over flowing with children. Near to bursting at the seams. Four children total, but it feels like more. They are laughing and playing and generally being kids.
The boys have been out climbing the hay bales.
The girls decided to ‘cook’. They settled on poke cake. Jello poured over a cooked cake. These directions called for a whipped cream frosting. They poured my cream, carefully kept on hand for coffee, into a bowl and began to mix. I left them to it, both wanting them to have the time to themselves and needing a small break from the joyful noise.
Outside working on Halloween directions, I got a phone call. They had messed something up, could I please come back? Don’t worry, nothing was broken.
Glad nothing was broken, I was still concerned, what could they have messed up making a cake? I hurried inside.
Exuberantly mixing the whipped cream they added in some of the jello, just like the recipe called for. They talked as they mixed, hanging out and having fun. They only looked away from the bowl they were tending for a minute.
When they looked back it had separated. Curdled? It was a lumpy pink mess. They were sickened by it. I stuck a finger in and tasted. Worked a clump between my fingers and thought. It was impressive really.
They had made butter. Ooops.
Not a total loss. I scooped it out, squeezed it relatively dry and put the pink butter ball in the fridge. We’ll have it on muffins in the morning.
This sort of day is exhausting to me, but at the same time it doesn’t get any better. Children laughing and happy, experimenting and getting dirty. One of my favorite podcast was saying today as I listened between talking to children that they make life harder, but better. The two aren’t mutually exclusive, we need both the hard and the better.
After cooking and climbing the two groups joined together again and carved some pumpkins. More messes were made, outside this time. Without those loud, messy days life wouldn’t be near as fun.
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31 August 2026

Lost Treasures

Many years ago, when the kids were much younger, we stopped under a tree in the pasture imaginatively called the creek pasture. The water hole we sat by was full. The tree offered shade. A picnic lunch was packed and in the pickup along with fishing poles.
There was never any hope of actually catching fish in the water hole. That wasn’t the point.
We threw the lines into the water anyway. We ate in the shade and played on the tree trunks. It was a lovely afternoon.
It wasn’t until the next day at least that I noticed my cap was missing. My son had worn it that day by the water. He had found it and latched onto it refusing to take it off. Until he forgot he was wearing it. It may have fallen along the way, it may have been taken off to wipe the sweat from his brow or to better enable tree climbing. The only thing that was for sure was that it was gone.
I went back and searched, walked up and down the creek banks, looked under and in the trees. The cows were in that pasture at the time, it was brought into question whether they could have helped with the complete and utter disappearance of the cap.
I was sad. The hat was gone. It was all mostly forgotten.
Today I walked down that same creek bed. There hasn’t been a drop of rain all year. The grass, what grass grew, was mowed short by cattle. The creek bed is dry, any hint of a water hole there long gone. Walking I kept my eyes on the dry creek bed hoping for some wonderful discovery, an arrow head, bones, some treasure from times long past.
Glancing up from my studies I saw the trees on the bank and recognized the spot of our long ago picnic play day. I remembered the cap. Making a circle around the former water hole I saw it. Laying there on top of the cracked dry mud.
It was the cap!
Years later, at least five years later, in children years that’s a lot, it had turned up again. Bones or arrow heads would have been slightly more exciting, maybe. But this was right up there.
It is nothing more than garbage now, chewed by cattle or mice we will never know, and worn by water and weather. But it is a reminder of that long ago summer day when the kids were young enough to want to play in the trees by the waters edge. One of these days they’ll get old enough to want to play again.
One of these days it will rain and there will be water there again.
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18 August 2026

Toads

We are inundated with toads.
That’s not a bad thing. It isn’t a curse of toads or a plague of toads. It’s just toads.
There was one rain this summer. As in it rained for real once this whole year. There have been a few sprinkles, and even a couple of measurable amounts of moisture since then. But only one real rain. It was beautiful. There were puddles everywhere. The sounds of toads croaking filled the nights following with their deafening music.
They came out of their drought induced hibernation for three or four nights.
Apparently they were very busy for those few nights.
Then they were gone again.
Every puddle left by the rain was quickly filled with tadpoles. The water hole in the horse’s pen started squirming and frothing as it dried. That was enough to make me go look. There in the puddle were more tadpoles than water. Some had small leg bumps starting to appear. None of them would be ready to hop away before the puddle dried.
So I sent the children out. They got filthy. They played. The laughter could be heard from the buildings. They scooped as many tadpoles as they could get and redistributed them to water tanks.
Now, every time we travel along our driveway we have to slow and watch carefully for toads hoping happily across. Not all from the tadpoles the children scooped up. They must have hatched everywhere. The come out when the pivots spray across the road. Whether driven out of hiding by the large water droplets or if they just enjoy hunting the bare roads, they come out and slow traffic.
The children and I both love to jump out of the car and follow them along. Maybe scooping them up for a moment to admire their big fat bellies. They’re all the same size, which makes sense if they’re from the same hatching.
We will enjoy our company while we can. Soon they will burrow back down again, cocooning themselves in a layer of sloughed off skin to preserve moisture. There they will wait for another big rain. Another chance to come out and procreate. Another time to serenade us with their beautiful music.
We’ll just have to drive very slow until then.
Category: 8, Family, Goblin Child | LEAVE A COMMENT
10 August 2026

The Best Laid Plans

Three of us were loaded in my pickup, headed out to check cows. The dog panted in the back, determined to come along no matter the heat. Windows were rolled up and the air-conditioner blasted, making it possible for us to squeeze in the single cab together. The radio sang happily along.
My daughter commented about the speaker. It was doing a thing, maybe like the one in a different pickup likes to do. I pondered that absently. It never seemed like my speakers had any problems. As I listened though I began to wonder. Was that sound part of the song?
Turning the radio down the noise was still there. That wasn’t good.
I stopped and stepped out to check tires on my side. Parked in the middle of the two track dirt road it was easy to see that the tires were fine. My son hopped out the passenger side and stopped immediately, there was definitely a problem.
Walking around to look I saw my rear tire shredded. The rim sat on the remains, nearly flat against the ground. My poor baby. I’ve had my pickup far longer than the children or husband. She is dear to me. And here she sat lame, injured, out of commission.
We were barely two miles from home. It was almost 100 degrees. The dog panted happily in the bed.
I called my husband.
That’s what you do when things go bad right? It’s what I do. He fixes things. Especially things like tires. That is not my area.
He came on a four-wheeler and looked it over. The rim wasn’t on the ground, it was protected by the remains of the tire. We could probably drive slowly home. So we began backing down the road. The ripple of shredded rubber the new sound track of our trip. He drove along side, watching to make sure the rim was alright.
The spare tire sits next to the pickups usual parking place. It fell off of the bottom where it had a special carrying spot. Luckily it fell of next to a cow tank. I pulled up to check water and there sat a random tire. Where could that have come from? Oh, it fell off my pickup.
So it went in the back. But I had to haul four-wheelers, or goats, or calves, or fence posts. So many reasons it was cast aside, temporarily, never to be put back where it goes.
Finally to the yard I let the children out. They get restless at slow speeds. Then we limped slowly on to the quanset where there was tire changing equipment. My husband stopped and got the spare. He made quick work of the job. In the hundred degree heat. My pickup was sound again. We could make sure the cows had water.
Thank Goodness for spare tires and good husbands.
Category: 8, Family, Goblin Child, It's a God thing | LEAVE A COMMENT
5 August 2026

Herding Cows, With a Drone

I’m thinking Fencing in the Dark, to the tune of Fishing in the Dark. It’ll be a catchy song.

We got a call at dusk. Our cows were out, they had crossed the street into the neighbors cornfield. They were very polite, manners are so important on both sides of these things, but could we please get them out?

The kids and I rushed to gather four-wheelers, fencing supplies, drinks. My husband took care of pleasantries on the phone call then joined us. We rushed to the pasture, quite a few miles away, ready to do what we could in the near dark. We were ready to run down the cornrows on foot chasing those dang cows. We met another pickup on the way who pulled up and stopped in front of our pasture. It was the neighbors .They live even more miles away from their cornfield than we do from our pasture.

I ran to block the gate, only a few head of cows, twenty or thirty or so, were already out. Others had noticed and were coming quick to follow. As I rushed to block the newcomers from the gate I realized it was the gate they were heading out. It was laid flat on the ground wide open. It is a gate that needs fence stretchers to open because it is so tight. Interesting. I turned the on coming cattle back.

The neighbors got out their drone. My son went on down the road past the gate on a four-wheeler to keep the cows from going that way. The drone headed out over the cornfield. At the other side of the cattle it’s lights came on and it flew in low behind the herd. They bellered and ran, diving back towards the gate. My son brought up the roadside rear on the four-wheeler, I held cows in that really wanted to join the others. Until the others started bolting past them away from the horrifying thing in the sky. They were off and running for the far corner of that pasture.

Which was good. We would lock them in the next pasture over until we could see if there was anything else wrong with the fence besides the opened and dropped gate. We thanked the neighbors for sparing us a late day stroll through the corn fields. We spent a very dark evening making sure the fence in the other pasture would hold them. The only thing worse than cows getting out is cows getting out twice. As the moon rose huge and red over the horizon I enjoyed the cool breeze. We marveled at the millions of stars twinkling in the sky. It really wasn’t a bad day, night, to be out there. The cows had come in amazingly well, we didn’t have to run after them through the corn. It was the best possible outcome of a bad situation.

I kind of like fencing in the dark.

Category: Cows, It's a God thing | LEAVE A COMMENT
4 August 2026

Fencin’ In The Dark

I’m thinking Fencing in the Dark, to the tune of Fishing in the Dark. It’ll be a catchy song.
We got a call at dusk. Our cows were out, they had crossed the street into the neighbors cornfield. They were very polite, manners are so important on both sides of these things, but could we please get them out?
The kids and I rushed to gather four-wheelers, fencing supplies, drinks. My husband took care of pleasantries on the phone call then joined us. We rushed to the pasture, quite a few miles away, ready to do what we could in the near dark. We were ready to run down the cornrows on foot chasing those dang cows. We met another pickup on the way who pulled up and stopped in front of our pasture. It was the neighbors .They live even more miles away from their cornfield than we do from our pasture.
I ran to block the gate, only a few head of cows, twenty or thirty or so, were already out. Others had noticed and were coming quick to follow. As I rushed to block the newcomers from the gate I realized it was the gate they were heading out. It was laid flat on the ground wide open. It is a gate that needs fence stretchers to open because it is so tight. Interesting. I turned the on coming cattle back.
The neighbors got out their drone. My son went on down the road past the gate on a four-wheeler to keep the cows from going that way. The drone headed out over the cornfield. At the other side of the cattle it’s lights came on and it flew in low behind the herd. They bellered and ran, diving back towards the gate. My son brought up the roadside rear on the four-wheeler, I held cows in that really wanted to join the others. Until the others started bolting past them away from the horrifying thing in the sky. They were off and running for the far corner of that pasture.
Which was good. We would lock them in the next pasture over until we could see if there was anything else wrong with the fence besides the opened and dropped gate. We thanked the neighbors for sparing us a late day stroll through the corn fields. We spent a very dark evening making sure the fence in the other pasture would hold them. The only thing worse than cows getting out is cows getting out twice. As the moon rose huge and red over the horizon I enjoyed the cool breeze. We marveled at the millions of stars twinkling in the sky. It really wasn’t a bad day, night, to be out there. The cows had come in amazingly well, we didn’t have to run after them through the corn. It was the best possible outcome of a bad situation.
I kind of like fencing in the dark.
Category: Cows, Family | LEAVE A COMMENT
15 July 2026

Missing Buns

Cooking supper is always a challenge. Every single time I have to figure out something to cook. Something only calls for ingredients I have on hand, something everyone will eat, something that isn’t particularly difficult. It’s a terrible and difficult undertaking.
Especially since my husband complains if I make tacos more than two or three times a week.
Luckily this time I was prepared. I had dinner rolls. They are the key ingredient to a simple filling meal. Cook hamburger, make a gravy, add whatever vaguely vegetable sort of thing we have on hand. Slice the buns in half, poor the hamburger mixture over the bottom half. Put the top half of the buns on top, sprinkle with butter and parmigian cheese then back until the tops are a crisp golden brown.
It’s part cassarol, part sliders, completely filling and yummy.
I was distracted as I cooked. I’m always distracted honestly. It was raining a little. Cooking was interrupted constantly by trips to look out the door, see if it was going to actually set in and rain? Or was it going to mess around a spit a little. Spitting won out and we never did get real rain.
I toasted the bottom layer of buns, feeling particularly fancy tonight. Cooked the hamburger. Added our special home fermented, fully home raised giardiniera. This as going to be good.
My husband got home between sprinkles of rain and trips in and out of the kitchen. He paused to take in a whiff of my cooking, he declared it to smell delicious.
I pulled the buns out of the oven. Poured the hamburger, giardiniera gravy over and added part of the top layer of buns. They’re always my favorite part. This was going to be so good. I reached for the rest of that top layer of buns, but couldn’t find them.
I had been standing here at the table as I sawed the rectangular loaf of bun in half. One collection of buns had been joined back together over the meaty filling, but where were the rest of them? I searched the kitchen, no luck. Not even in the fridge or any random cabinets I might have reached into. Thinking of my trips through the house I wandered about checking shelves, the couch, tables, even the bathroom You never know about me. I tend to get distracted. If I had been holding them and started to do something else I could have set them anywhere.
Things I was once holding in my hands have been found in the most random and absurd places.
The family, noticing my wandering and muttering, joined in the search. They too have witnessed me losing things. They’ve often been told I would lose them if they couldn’t follow me. We all searched. They looked places I had already looked, over looking objects is as easy as them disappearing out of my hands.
No luck. Where could the buns have gone? They were there one second, disappeared off the face of the earth the next. This was one of the most impressive loosings I’ve managed. Half of our meal lay there exposed and naked, missing it’s best part.
Improvising I cut some hot dog buns to fit. They wouldn’t be as yummy but might make it still feel like a proper meal.
We laughed largely at me. We ate our meal anyway, enjoying it all the more for it’s unique additions. All the while our dog sat mute, watching with hope in her eyes, lips quivering with desire, her muzzle never far from the table waiting for a scrap.
No photo description available.
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