Our corn crop really feels the milder weather. It wouldn’t win a beauty contest if it were the only contestant. It was so wet this spring to begin with, and then it stayed so cool. The corn does look better now that it’s closer to harvest time. Corn needs warmer temperatures to fully mature.
The sweet corn in the garden did great. We froze 96 quarts and ate corn-on-the-cob until we felt like hogs. Emily’s front teeth allowed her to enjoy it this year. She’d been teased quite a bit because it appeared for a while she might be missing her upper front teeth through corn season. One new one grew in time, and one old one is still hanging on.
For some reason I didn’t mind the mess of eating corn so much this year. I guess the children are all a year older so most of the corn went into their mouths instead of onto the floor.
Colleen finished her schooling, and having her home from school is wonderful! She thinks so too. This term Brian is in the seventh grade; Karah a third grader; and Emily is in the first grade. Jolisa and Jesse play nicely together here at home. We always have a period of adjusting once school starts in the fall, but there are things I like about it too. The 8:15 bedtime for the children is nice. It gives me a little quiet time to read—if I don’t fall asleep. Emily has been a borderline reader for a while already, and I am really looking forward to her learning to fully read anything she wants. We all love books, and it’s always a thrill when each child masters reading fluently.
Before I forget to mention it, we’re back to milking three times a day. I kicked, and screamed, and banged my head—all to no avail. Not really. No, I absolutely didn’t want to, but I realized we had to. Therefore I prayed for peace, which I was granted. Wayne read in a dairy magazine how the dairy food producers had over 100 percent greater profits the first half of this year over the first half of last year. Well, of course, with not more than they’re paying for the milk, they can fill their pockets with more profits. It angers me that the middleman makes more than the farmer does, but what can a little Amish woman do about it?
I’ve acquired a couple new recipes to try—sour cream, cream cheese, soft cheese, mozzarella, and hard cheese. I’ve already made the mozzarella, and that is exactly what it tastes like. I was amazed. I feel privileged to have raw, whole milk at my fingertips to experiment with such foods, giving me a whole new appreciation for these products. I haven’t tried the other recipes yet, but I will as my schedule allows.
We love cheese, especially with homemade bologna and crackers. Cheese has a way of putting a finishing touch on almost any dish, any soup, any sandwich.
I definitely need to start walking three miles a day.
Our good friends Vernon, Sandy, Jeff, and Connie from Oklahoma spent three days in the area. We were privileged to make precious memories with them again. They brought some lavender scents that I’d been looking for to add to my homemade fabric softener.
Stir together 2 cups white vinegar, 2 cups baking soda, and 4 cups water. Sometimes I add ½-cup hair conditioner.
Mix it together in a plenty big container as it will really foam when you stir the vinegar and soda together.
Store in empty fabric softener bottles. Shake well before using. Use ¼-cup per wash load.
There is a first time for everything. Tonight for the first time I experienced the thrill(?) of cleaning fish that Brian caught today. A neighbor man took Brian fishing, and he had an awesome day catching a lot of fish. We look forward to having a fish-fry tomorrow night.
I’m remembering the week of the Fourth of July because it was downright chilly like today. It put a lot of campers into long johns. One 50-degree morning a grandpa in his sixties was trying to sleep with a thick coat and cap on while wrapped in a thick blanket. His sweet wife Edna, entered the tent, and he told her, “Oh, Grandma, this is so fun, why don’t we do it more often?” Grandma laughed so hard she had nearly everyone awake at five o’clock that morning. I loved the grandpa’s attitude and cheerfulness; I long to be more like him.
Last night I discovered my alarm-clock battery was dead. I almost never hear Wayne’s alarm, and yes, we need two to get us out of bed in the morning. I reminded Wayne that he needs to wake me when his alarm goes off so he doesn’t shut his off and fall back to sleep. Well, that is exactly what happened. All at once Wayne woke me up, and it wasn’t the time we’d planned to get up. Disgusting! So our day started a half hour later then we’d planned. Chores went as usual… nothing really exciting. Just the right amount of exercise to get my blood flowing for the day.
Colleen spent the night at Aunt Sue’s to visit with her cousins, so I knew what all waited for me once I got to the housework. That was okay. I’m spoiled, and the little girls can chip in and do more if they know they have to. While heading toward the house, I grabbed a five-gallon bucket. In the darkness I shoved tomatoes into it. I’d harvested the tomatoes last week already and put them on a board to speed up their ripening. I headed to the house, got myself cleaned up, and then woke the girls. It took quite a bit of coaxing to get them moving.
Karah swept the house. Emily thought she could just go back to bed. I can’t remember if she got anything accomplished or not. I do think she cleared the table after breakfast. She loves first grade, but she’s not good at handling changes—and school has been a major change for her.
In the meantime, I washed the tomatoes and got them into the pots to cook. I fixed the schoolchildren’s lunches and made oatmeal for breakfast. We all gathered in the living room before breakfast to send our praise and thankfulness heavenward. Then we were all aflutter again. I combed the girls’ hair, and they finished getting ready for school.
After they headed out, I grabbed the five-gallon bucket again and ran for the garden to get the rest of the ripe tomatoes. It was a beautiful morning, and I listened to the chatter of the neighborhood girls as they biked past on their way to school. Then all was quiet again.
I keep thinking of a year ago today… the day Mom died. Many, many thoughts tumble through my mind. How we all miss her, and that’s okay. I rest in the thought that this was the will of God, but I still miss her. The last month has been especially hard.
I have to stay on my toes as my sisters Leanna and Sue and I are going to my Aunt Ida’s for lunch today. (She’s Mom’s sister.) Ida’s two daughters, Edna and Erma, will also be there. It will feel good to see everyone. I fixed a bowl of coleslaw to take along for lunch.
Jesse and Jolisa entertained themselves by making a brown cracker and granola mess. They asked umpteen times when we will be ready to go to Aunt Ida’s. Poor things. I’m not used to having a schedule like this, and it makes me jumpy. Tomorrow I go away for the day too.
I set up the Victorio strainer and put the cooked tomatoes through for juice. I heated the can lids and lined the quart cans up. I added 2 tablespoons lemon juice (½ teaspoon citric acid or 4 tablespoons regular white vinegar also works) to each can, poured in the tomato juice, slapped the lids on top and screwed on the rings tightly. I water-bath canned them for 35 minutes, took them out, and set them on a towel to seal. Groan. Now comes the fun part—cleaning up the mess. It didn’t take long because I was on a mission.
Jesse and Jolisa were still asking me when I would be ready to go to Aunt Ida’s. We finally went and enjoyed every minute we were there. The meal Aunt Ida prepared was so like what Mom would make when we came home for the day. It warmed us all the way to our hearts. And the stories! It was just so good to be there.
Colleen came home with us, and we are all glad to have her at home again even if she was only gone for a night. She deserved a fun little break with her cousins. We got home at 2:30, and I decided to see if our couch was still comfortable! Stretching out felt wonderful, and I decided not to feel one bit guilty. When the schoolchildren came home they wondered if I was sick.
While the rest of us chored and the little ones played, Colleen washed the tomato juice cans and carried them to the basement. She said there are more than 70 quarts down there now. As long as the plants keep producing, I’ll keep canning. We eat a lot of chili soup and tomato gravy in the winter. Wayne would drink more tomato juice if I had a habit of keeping some in the refrigerator. I know that would be good for me too, but ugh and gross. Maybe once I grow up I’ll like it too.
We had spaghetti and meatballs, along with tomato sandwiches, for supper. Colleen got the campfire roaring to have roasted marshmallows and s’mores for dessert. It seems the summer was so cool and short that we didn’t get a lot of s’mores made. I sure ate my share tonight.
The house is quiet with the children now in bed. Wayne is reading in his dilapidated recliner. It’s time to call it a day. Oh, but I do have to tell you what happened on a Monday back in August.
To begin with, the week after my mom died I discovered I had a secret pal. The first day I was home alone with the little ones, a floral shop delivered a teacup and saucer with a fresh flower arrangement. I was humbled and in awe. It felt like the Lord was telling me he’s right here with me. And on it went. Every month I received a gift. In July there was a note attached to the gift saying to be ready on August 31. I had no clue as to who this secret person was.
I decided to piece a scrap log-cabin quilt using leftover fabric from Mom’s quilt business to give this person as a gift of appreciation. I had a lot of emotions tied into this quilt because this secret person was really blessing me. So often it seemed I received those gifts just when I needed a lift. Often it felt like the Lord was showing me that he cares for me. I was a bundle of excited nerves by the time August 31 rolled around.
I found out that five ladies from a church district decided to have secret pals for a year. As soon as I saw these ladies, I knew my cousin Edna was my secret pal! She has a quilt business like Mom used to have, so she already has plenty of quilts, but she was still appreciative of the one I’d made for her because of the fabric I used and the emotions involved.
Our house is cold on this dreary, rainy day. It seems the last dozen or so times Colleen did laundry it ended up being rainy. Wayne is now trying to get the coal stove started here in the kitchen so we can start unthawing our tight shoulders and maybe think about drying some laundry in here. There really is nothing cozier then a warm fire glowing in one corner of the kitchen. It warms a person to the bones and looks so peaceful.
This morning while I was kneading bread at the kitchen table, Jesse crawled up on the table and started playing in the flour canister. I told him to stop and, of course, he wasn’t impressed. He told me I could just go to Shipshewana or Topeka and buy our bread instead of making it. He figured then he wouldn’t be tempted to play in the flour.
We’ve definitely had an abundance of moisture and cool temperatures this year. I didn’t get my fill of warm sunshine. I cringe to think of the cold winter months ahead when I can hardly move to do chores because of my many layers of clothing. If you’ve never had the chance to experience the joys of January and February dairy farming amid frozen water pipes, frozen toes, frozen dresses, and a very cold milking parlor with six or eight cats vying for the milk dish, remember to thank the Lord while you’re inside your cozy, warm house looking outside. I’m really thankful, though, that I have a chance to go outside and get fresh air and exercise—even if I sometimes feel like kicking the pesky cats.
One night while Wayne and I were milking, Jesse came to the parlor extremely upset. He was crying hysterically and his knees were shaking against each other. He was repeatedly saying, “The tractor is out!” Brian had been driving the garden tractor, so Wayne figured Jesse was denied a ride and upset about it. With Jesse’s carrying on, we decided it might be something more serious than that. I flew up from the parlor (we have four steps from the pit) and into the milk house, afraid of what I would encounter. Wayne was right behind me.
Immediately I saw why Jesse was so upset. The big 4010 John Deere tractor had broken one of the milk house windows! Wayne had left the commodity shed* door open in the east end of the barn. Jesse had evidently climbed onto the tractor and was playing. He pulled it out of park, and the tractor proceeded to roll east toward the milk house. The cement is in enough of a downgrade and the tractor, with the TMR mixer wagon attached to it, was heavy enough that the machinery gained quite a bit of speed. Jesse nipped a 100-gallon gas tank and crashed into a portable basketball hoop, which slammed into the milk house window, thus breaking it. That was the least of my concerns right then. We were shaken, and very thankful that Jesse was unharmed. As I held and comforted Jesse, it seemed I could feel his guardian angel’s wings fluttering around us and rejoicing at Jesse’s safety with us. It took Jesse a long time to calm down, and he advised Wayne to keep the barn door closed. We all agreed. I cringe to think of the damage that could have been done had the tractor hit the glazed tile blocks of the milk house.
Every week I think, Now this Saturday I want to keep the day more relaxed. But every week it seems to be just as hectic. By the time we get the cleaning done, maybe bake a bit, and fix other food, the day is jam-packed. We did have a stress buster the other Saturday though.
We were done with the regular weekly cleaning, and Colleen was working by the kitchen cabinets when she heard some peculiar sounds. “Mom, I hear a mouse in here!” she said.
We listened and, yes, we heard that dreaded sound. It seemed to be in distress, and in our kind-hearted way, we wanted to terminate its distress. Colleen and I both went to get brooms. By then Karah, Emily, Jolisa, and Jesse were dancing nervously around the kitchen. We told them to be quiet, and I opened a cupboard and spun the lazy Susan around a couple times to see what would happen.
Colleen and I are typical females, and we had a bad case of the jitters dancing up and down our spines. Probably me more than Colleen because she’s usually calmer than I am.
Yeeeeiiii! Whop! Whop! Wham! We were dancing around by then because the mouse was on the loose! The noise level was astronomical as we chased the mouse through the kitchen. Above all the noise I screamed to the girls to close the pantry door. We didn’t need a mouse in the pantry. The creature ran for the porch as we continued to whop at it.
Finally Colleen made a killing hit, and we straightened our backs and sighed. I glanced toward the kitchen and started whooping and laughing because Karah, Emily, Jolisa, and Jesse were all standing on the kitchen table facing us, their eyes wide. Amid our giggling, Colleen said her broom handle was crooked and would never be the same. All these joys of living in an old house. We very rarely do have mice in the house, thankfully.
Another challenge of living in an old house is having cold floors. The older I get, the colder I get. We put a rug in the living room this fall, so it’s cozier. Can you tell me anything cozier than enjoying an evening at home with the family relaxing in the living room, munching on popcorn, and reading together? Then, being children, they romp around the rug. Next they might fix a nest with blankets, pillows, and a pile of books. Or perhaps they just talk and giggle. The gas lamplight adds to the warmth, and the quiet hum sounds cozy too. All too soon it’s bedtime.
The cows are probably wondering if someone will come out to the barn and milk them tonight. It’s chore time, and the way it sounds in here it’s high time several of us headed to the barn.