It’s been a big week for several reasons, including lambing and sugaring season. Our first lamb arrived on Monday, and so far, we’ve collected 65 gallons of sap! That’s about a gallon and a half of syrup.
So without further ado, here are the week’s top photos:
Somehow, the memories I have of my grandfather right now are not my own.
He passed away September 19, the end of the summer, following my grandmother, who died at the beginning of the summer. The funeral was a few days later.
While my family spoke of their memories of him, I found that I only remembered those things because they said them. Oh! I thought when my dad read about Mighty Casey at the bat. I can hear him saying “No joy in Mudville” now.
I’d forgotten that! I pondered when my brother stood to say that Grandfather lost all hope for his team when they fell behind by a run in the fifth inning. “That’ll do it,” he’d say.
It was a bustling morning at the Art Gallery. Several people stopped in for the Photography Show. Children exclaimed over painted scenes of bridges they had traversed in the park. One woman purchased a magnet, and when the oversized Casio calculator displayed “1” three times when checking what 10% off $6 would be, I finally decided it was broken and used paper (for those who say this is easy math–this is true; but when I am faced with a cash register and a paying customer, my mind forgets everything I learned in fifth grade, and mental gymnastics to properly operate the cash register ensue).
In the relative quiet of the afternoon (the “oldies” radio station still plays), I am writing. They say bloggers aren’t supposed to pull attention toward how long it’s been since they last wrote something, but I’m going to break that rule for today.
There’s a lot more I can say on all of these things, and more will come. But for now, a couple of briefs:
Last week, Jeff and I celebrated our first anniversary. This week, the nightmarish calving season ended with another nightmare as a cow I was given for Christmas lost her calf and twisted her hip after the difficult birth; our dog, Toby, was put to sleep Wednesday night; and my grandmother is in hospice care at home.
Last October, a film crew from Small Town, Big Deal visited Parke County to tape an episode about our covered bridges and rural attractions. I was interviewed at the bridge where Jeff proposed to me, and the show hosts, Rodney Miller and Jann Carl, talked to my great-aunt on the farm. I couldn’t hear all of that interview because I was working with the horses in the background, so the first time I’ll really hear it is on TV.
This is how Sunday afternoons should be: reading a fascinating story about Alaska from American Nature Writing, 2001, during a light lunch after church, critters asleep on the living room floor, my husband asleep on the couch, me clacking away on the WordPress editor.
I just put a couple of loaves of banana bread into the oven. Soon, the house will fill with the smell of bananas rescued and resurrected, and we’ll enjoy tea (the drink) and bread in a midday snack the Scots and Kiwis sometimes call “tea.”
Winter birthday parties nowadays require sitting outside, which worked out quite well on Saturday because Jeff and I were working with the sheep in the barn that morning.
We’d dropped off some Christmas trees a little while ago, trees that neighbors had wanted to recycle. It’s said there are some beneficial properties to evergreens that will help sheep rid themselves of parasites, and so we’ve been trying this the last couple of years.
So far, the Shetlands like the pines, but not the firs.
A week after I returned home from New Zealand, a high school friend, L, and I drove around the county to see the annual Covered Bridge Festival and visit bridges we didn’t often see. We took our photos in front of nine of the 31 structures.
Of course we stopped by West Union.
Who knew that two and a half years later, we’d be standing on the same bridge as bride and bridesmaid.