We were going to do the family Christmas ting on Christmas eve instead of Christmas day. But we had all morning to get ready, nothing going on until noon. Or so I thought. I was still running around the house in various states of undress when the doorbell rang. The kids flung it wide and invited the slightly unexpected company in. I ran around the house picking up underwear hoping there was some way he wouldn’t notice.
It was uncle Leland. He had gotten up early and made the drive up getting here well before noon. After visiting for a bit he was ready to go ice fishing. We managed to get him to wait long enough for us to go with.
It was warm enough out that we didn’t think there was anyway there’d be enough ice to actually fish. We were wrong. The ice was many inches thick and they set to work boring holes. The ice creaked and groaned. I couldn’t handle it and stuck to the shore.
8 and I explored the shoreline. The ice had heaved and buckled all around the edges. We made our way through cat tails much taller than us and slid down the hills of ice. The The Goblin Child got tired of watching them sit staring at holes in the ice and came to join us. We explored our way clear to the play ground. Then it was time to get going.
Then it was time for the Christmas festivities. It had been declared that lunch would be at noon. No waiting until evening to eat lunch this year. I was determined to support my mother in law in her declaration so we had to be there in time. We rushed home and got our soup warmed up then hauled our presents and food up. We ate, soup, deserts, home made ice cream, then we opened presents.
Then we rushed off to the kids Christmas program. They had been practicing diligently, learning their lines and getting ready for their big night. They were doing a Christmas alphabet poem, each child had a letter and they all did a couple of songs together. They were exhausted from trying to fit everything into one day. 8 was barely hanging in there but managed to pull through. The whole service was beautiful and I always love the last song sung by candle light. They changed it up a little this year, everyone stood around the edges facing each other. It made taking pictures a little more obvious and quite awkward 😉
We’ve been making it to church regularly since Thanksgiving. Nothing like the pressure of a Christmas play to get us back in the habit. This year the kids are going to walk one at a time down the aisle and say a letter of the alphabet along with the beginning of a poem. There are an amazing amount of children in this tiny church right now. Five littles that are going to do this. Five big kids that are going to read the rest of the poem and accompanying bible verse. One to manage the littles on stage and one to send them up at the proper times. More kids than there are adults in the church!
I don’t know how it will go the day of. Practice has been interesting to say the least. The littlest kids have been there almost every week for practice. The big ones not so much. Hopefully they wont be tired after a whole day of Christmasing. We’re doing the family Christmas eve. Nothing like stacking everything in one day. The Goblin child is wonderful. She stands tall, speaks her lines loud and clear and remembers everything. 8 not so much. Oh well, if nothing else they’re cute!
It’s a tiny little church out in the middle of nowhere, miles from any town. Still the parking lot was filled and people streamed in and out all night long, come to see the nativity.
The children were restless and tired and cold, reluctant to sing and unwilling to sit. The animals much more compliant stood patiently munching on hay.
The library did a soup and a craft table for the Santa soup cook off. After spending the evening working on that we stayed to watch Ava’s Christmas program! We haven’t gotten to for a few years because of small children who can not sit still. This year we were determined to try, children and all.
First my hard working husband came home early from work to find the problem with the waterers. They were bowing fuses, not keeping the ice thawed. He found the problem. Somewhere underground between the fuse and the tanks.
Then the light in the kitchen kept fluttering off and on while we ate supper. It was easily fixed with a new light bulb.
Then at bedtime the light was off in the fridge. Another simple fix. Mostly. The plug in is well hidden behind the stove. I don’t know how my poor electrically inclined husband goes about it, but it’s a reach.
Even the light up Christmas tree in the Little Blue Truck book quit working. That is taking it too far.
It doesn’t seem like much now that I get it written down but it’s a Monday. Bad enough on it’s own between work, robotics, and children. Altogether it just feels like it’s pilling up. Hopefully the rest of the electricity keeps working!
Late one night I sat on my computer looking at pictures of old houses. In one of them there was sign of a fire that had occurred many years ago. I noticed my mom was online too so I sent her a link. She should get to enjoy the pretty derelict old houses with me. We started talking about the cause of the fire and began concocting stories to explain it. I loved our story too much to let it go there, so here it is. A very fictional (maybe) story of a ruin. With pictures!
Me: How do you think the fire started?
Mom: I hadn’t noticed the fire. Maybe the fire place?
Me: No, the fire was by a window. Not to big of a fire but lots of smoke damage.
Mom: It does look like that. Wonder what happened. Your theory?
Me: Cigarette? Electrical outlet?
Mom: Mine was the fireplace… Maybe someone hated them and threw a burning ball of rags through the window. Before it could do too much damage they found it, fought through the smoke, and extinguished it.
Me: (ever boring) Much more exciting. But the worst of the damage is directly between the windows against the wall, if they threw it through the window I would expect it to be more towards the middle of the room and in line with a window.
(I’m not completely boring though, just mostly) Still possible though. I say it came though the window to our left hit the side of the couch that was there against the wall and burned.
Mom: They didn’t throw it, they came on the porch. There were no screens back then, they poured the tar dipped rags through the window. No they didn’t pour it they pushed it through the window and to the side.
Me: Luckily the girl who had thrown him over heard a noise. When she awoke she laid there disoriented and scared until she came to enough to recognize the smell of smoke. She then woke up the rest of the family and they were able to put the fire out.
Mom: Sadly the man who started it got the burning tar on his hands. He was horribly scarred and disfigured. The girl did the only thing she could, she forgave him, married him, and loved him forever.
Me: She loved and forgave the physically and mentally scarred man and married him anyway, but the scars on his mind, the deep and insidious damage to his mind. From his difficult childhood, their tumultuous romance and the pain of his injuries continued to resurface. They moved into her house with plans to repair it but he would never let her touch that room. As his delusions grew worse he no longer let her leave the house. It slowly rotted into the ground around them. Their once beautiful love for each other collapsing into a rotting wreck taking them both down with it. Very symbolic all around.
Mom: Sadly their son and his wife bought a house in the country along a beautiful stream, in the hills, peaceful and beautiful. He had become so warped by his parents unhappiness that he lost his mind and, some say, killed his beautiful wife, burying her body in the basement. To this day no one wants to buy as they say it is still haunted by their spirits.
Me: (back to the original house) Then many years later the door to the house, normally sealed shut, was found open. Upon searching the house the lifeless body of a homeless man who had sought shelter within was discovered. He lay huddled in the pink room near where the fire had started. An autopsy revealed he had died of smoke inhalation. No new sign of fire was found.
We were alone in the house, the children and I. My hard working husband was putting in a late night. He wanted to be home and was going to hurry back to us as soon as he could. Bedtime was near, children were tired, tempers flared. I may have yelled at them once or twice.
At the end of one yell the back door rattled loudly. Great I thought. He got home just in time to hear me yelling at the children. His hands must be full, he was going to bring us deserts after all, and he needs help opening the door. “It’s Lala!” I told the children “lets go let him in”! We dashed down the stairs, flung open the door, turned on the light.
No one was there.
I stood staring at the empty back porch in horror. I knew I had heard the door rattle. I knew it to the depths of my soul. That had not been my imagination. He, or anyone else, surely couldn’t have gotten out the back door already? Could they? The possibilities raced through my mind. None concrete, simple wisps of ideas, frightful and vague.
Then grasping for hope I thought of the cat. Where was that creature? Looking around I noticed The Goblin Child’s door was closed. Could it have been? I heard a door, not necessarily the back door. They are right next to each other. It could have been. Here I opened wide the door.
And there stood the cat, waiting patiently to be let out. Why had we taken so long. Hadn’t we heard it shacking the door off its hinges?
The Goblin Child fell off Princess Onna. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t either of their faults. A total and complete freak accident. The Goblin Child was zipping along, giggling and having a blast. She was happy as could be up until that exact second. Then Onna tripped over something and went down. She fell clear over on her side throwing T.G.C. clear.
There was lots of crying but no real harm done. 8 was on Coyote behind me at the time and I had to get out from in front of him before I could get to her. Easier said than done. I left him there on Coyote while I picked her up and searched for injuries. Coyote stood wonderfully. So did Onna once she got up. We walked back to the corral from the hill by the windmill. Then she was settled down enough I thought I could put her back on. I couldn’t.
She was alright until I tried to set her on Onna then she started crying again. It wasn’t happening. I took 8 off Coyote and put him on Onna. She was willing to ride Coyote and I walked back to the house leading both horses. Once there I turned 8 loose to roam and took The Goblin Child off Coyote. And put her on Onna.
She was scared at first. Then calmed down as I led them around. She has been back on Onna a few times and they seem to be doing well together. I hope they can get back to their former level of confidence.
We could feel it coming already on Sunday. The air turned heavy and sticky, the wind blew out of the East. No rain came that night. By Monday the air was heavy with tension. The heavy heat had only intensified and the wind blew hot and cold as the day was at once sticky hot and chilly.
By afternoon weather warnings were everywhere. The clouds were building in the west, small still. Soon the first sever storms were popping up on the Wyoming border, in the open empty country along the Wyoming border up to South Dakota and around Harrison. Still nothing here.
We covered the garden as best we could, made sure the horses shelter was in good shape. They came and helped, looked around a little then followed us back out. We repaired their wind break and picked up any loose toys in the yard, basically battened down the hatches. Still no storm although the sky was cloud covered and the radar showed red getting towards Chadron.
We sat down to supper and finally the storm hit. Big heavy drops first, slow to come, slow to cover the sidewalk. The weather radio couldn’t keep up with the watches and warnings, often interrupting its self to start the new before the original was finished. we debated unplugging things and decided not to worry about it yet. We let Daisy in to cower under the table. I went to see if I could spot the horses, I couldn’t, I did see lightening striking the ground in staccato beat. Each bright flash violently hitting the ground barely beyond the tree row, nearly in the pasture on the hill. Rushing back down to the kitchen I said that I thought we should definitely unplug. That was the end of watching the building storm on radar.
The lights in the kitchen fluttered, blinking on and off. Never all the way off, just enough to be distracting. Then, lightning hit a line somewhere, they pulled down, humming and dim. Then with a crash of nearby thunder they flashed back to full brightness. We were glad to have the computers unplugged.
As we finished eating, interrupted by constant trips up to look out the windows, the weather radio was going insane. Tornadoes on the ground, we listened carefully to hear where they were. Severe storms all around us, yes we could see that. The last of our meal forgotten on the table we watched the pounding rain turn to hail. Few at first, pea sized scattering across the ground as the wind blew it sideways. Then more and larger. Fortunately the larger were few and the wind stilled. Managing to get some signal on his phone my husband worried for his garden and crops checked out the radar. The worst of the hail was going by to the south.
After the blast of hail the rain let up and the lightning slowed. I wanted to go check the horses. In mud boots and a sweat shirt I ran out into the still falling rain and closed the door on the chicks then down to find the horses. Of course they weren’t in the barn, dry with plenty of room. Instead they were squeezed under a fallen down roof, wither high and no sides. I had hesitated at first to even let them into a pen with such junk and hazards but checking it carefully for sharp protrusions I had decided that the extra space was worth the limited danger involved and now it’s their favorite hang out.
Wading out to the windbreak through ankle deep water and mud I called and called for them. If they would just come I could lead them to the barn with safer shelter and more room. They stood, huddled and refused to come out for me. I debated walking out for them and watched as lighting struck, hot and bright, to the ground over the hill in front of me. Looking down at the water surrounding me and at more lightening striking past the trees I called once again and went back to the house. They could have that shelter if it was what they wanted.
All evening the radio gave bad news, as we waited for the second round. Trying to keep children calmed and entertained and finally into bed, we kept half of our attention on the news. A large tornado at Chimney Rock, we have a friend right there. Large hail and high wind at the intersection of our highway and the Niobrara River, a couple miles south. Tornadic storms going through Fort Robinson and Whitney. Still hail and tornadoes stayed away.
The storm finally passed out of our area. The weather radio actually shut off between warnings, until the sound of it became startling instead of background noise.
The next morning we took stock. Nearly three inches of rain. The garden damaged as much by too much rain to quickly as by hail. The corn in the fields is still standing. Amazingly none of our little herd of cattle were hit by lightening. It was so bad and so much I couldn’t believe nothing would be hit. Instead we found full ponds and a nearly deafening croaking of frogs. They seem to appear out of nowhere and went straight to mating. Soon there will be tadpoles. Not all is bad in the aftermath.
Unfortunately everyone can’t say the same. Bayard NE received a direct hit. The nursing home was nearly? destroyed and the town hit hard. A feedlot was also in the direct path of the storm and many pivots twisted and flipped. A pivot repair company in the area is desperately looking to hire short term help. Many homes and barns were in the path as well as livestock, including horses.
A brave knight errant and his trusty companions were out for a stroll through the wintry wood. Over deep drifts of snow and under low hanging trees they wandered in search of dragons to slay and noble quests to undertake. When, in the distance they heard a faint cry. Not sure of the sound they stopped, waited and listened to hear it again. Finally it issued forth once again, over the frozen meadow that split the deep dark wood.
The brave knight tromped through the snow in search of the creature that so desperately sought rescue. So speedily did he tromp that his troupe was left behind. He rushed on until a mere glimpse of pink was spotted above the snow, before it disappeared again. Making his way in that direction he saw it again peep above a snow bank and then gone. Finally the deep clutching snow of the meadow battled through, he made it to the crested drift of snow to find, there below, a fair and delicate maiden trapped in a deep dungeon.
“Oh, kind sir, I beg of thee, free me from this terrible fate to which I have been doomed. A great and fearsome dragon set a trap and caught me here in his lair. He goes now for his nap but will surely return soon, hurry, please and free me while there is time!”
The brave knight wasted no time but inched out onto the fragile ledge of snow holding her entrapped. His followers cowered back from the precipice watching in wonder of how he would accomplish the feat. Creeping, gently to the edge he held his strong arm out to the waif like maid. She grasped his hand, clinging to it’s safety and he wrenched her free of the clutch of the dragons lair.
Safe, away from the dungeon and free of the dragon, the brave knight and the fair maid went off to sled in the wintry wood.
