America, Family, Farm, Funny

Wednesday, March 2

Let me tell you what I’m not doing right now. I’m not searching for my phone. Because I didn’t lose my phone. My brother lost his. Which never happens. I’m always the one who loses my phone and goes on an elephant hunt back through my day to figure out at which point I set it down and forgot about it. And when this happens, I’m always given a lecture about how I shouldn’t be constantly losing my phone and how I need to keep track of my stuff. But, now, the aforementioned lecturer has lost his phone. And am I lecturing him? 

No. 

I am relishing silently in this glory, basking in his frustration at having to figure out where he irresponsibly laid his phone down at. Because for once, it wasn’t me. 
  
Let me tell you what I am doing, though. I am in a narrow stairwell, having Jake take a passport picture. Why the stairwell? Because we need a white wall for a background and a two foot wide stairwell seemed to be our best option.. Which basically means his phone (which has been located) is right in front of my face, which causes me to laugh because this situation is just so ridiculous and results in a passport picture that looks like a cross between a mugshot and an emoji. He took a decent one, but I’m pretty certain he’s currently in the process of printing the mugshot emoji one. 

Wednesday, March 2 was not an eventful day for me. I currently babysit on Wednesdays for a friend, so my day consisted of bottles and diapers and rockers and all things baby. Me and the baby have developed a good working relationship. We have mutual respect for each other, understand our roles, and perform our jobs to the best of our abilities. We’re all business, no drama.

However, Wednesday, March 2 was eventful for my brother. Which he relayed to me at the end of the day. And I took such a liking to the story, in all of its ridiculous detail, that I told him he should write about it. 

The thing about me and Jake is that we both love stories. I love to be told stories. And I love to tell stories. But, vocally telling a story is not my forte. I become too bogged down in the details and lose the point too easily. I like to write stories, it’s more organized and detailed. It suits me better. 

But, if you have ever heard Jake tell a story, his medium is definitely vocal. He does impressions, voices, mannerisms, he’s a mockingbird, including every detail in the way he tells a story. It’s enjoyable. In fact, he made me laugh so hard at a story he was telling the other day that I choked on my coffee and was fairly certain that I was going to end up with pneumonia from aspirating liquid down into my lungs. 

So, he obliged me and wrote the story down. Which really has no point except for that I found it amusing. So, here it is, in Jake’s words:

The week prior to leaving on a trip is always chaotic, however I think…. “we’ve done this enough that we should have this down to a science.”  If only life were that simple.

My grandpa lost his cell phone in the field a week or so ago while feeding cows and has been off the grid when he leaves the farm to run errands. This is driving my grandma insane because she had become accustomed to picking up the phone and calling him to remind him he had a funeral that day, the baptistry needed to be filled up while he was out, or that they were out of Bran Flakes (her current favorite).

In a cataclysmic turn of events, their home phone and internet services have also been on the fritz this week.  Let me just say, it’s been several phone calls back and forth to CenturyLink.

Wednesday’s are an odd day of the week for us at work because Brittney is out of the shop.  It also happened to be that my mom had an appointment with her eye surgeon that my dad needed to take her to. This meant that it would only be 1 person coming into work for the first part of the day. 1 out 3, it’s hard to pass with 33%, imagine trying to take a self portrait with a tripod that only has one leg.. You get the point.  Any other time, I would sit this morning out, except this was not possible, remember, three days until we leave for Vietnam.
 

One man shop

 

(8:30 am) My day started with slow single person tasks and as I was mid-first monogram of the day, my grandpa came in the shop looking for my dad.  I told him he was gone this morning, what did he need? Their home phone went out again, he needed to borrow a cell phone to call CenturyLink. After waiting 15 minutes on hold, he gets through and then the phone call cuts out. What is it with Maysville and glorious telecommunication services?  (aside: #MaysvilleLivesMatter). 

 Another call back to CenturyLink and passing the phone off to me, I get a few instructions to troubleshoot their problem.  My grandpa felt equally confident that he could do as the lady instructed and also that what she instructed would not fix their problem, so away he went.  In the meantime,  I text my dad to get them a cell phone card for a cell phone my aunt gave my grandparents.
  

Morning embroidery

(10:30 am) My dad called for me to meet him in Gentry (20 minutes away) to pick him up as he was going to leave my mom’s car with her at her work. I told him we needed to grab lunch at McDonald’s because we didn’t have time to sit down and eat lunch at home and we were already sitting for 20 minutes in the car on the way home. (Note- even in an apocalypse, efficiency is the key to survival.)

(11:30 am) When we got home from Gentry,  we went directly down to my grandparents house (1/4 mile down the dirt road) to setup the minutes on the cell phone they have because my grandma had an appointment to get a perm that afternoon. My grandma said the phone in the kitchen on the charger, unfortunately, it was the charger to their old phone. Also unfortunate was the fact that the new cell had enough battery life to appear functional.  I read the directions on how to load the minutes and as soon I loaded the minutes, my grandma asked if I could make that phone have the same number as the old phone (which, remember, is sitting somewhere out in a hay field). It dawned on me that I didn’t even know what phone number this phone had so I read off the number to my grandma.  She reread the number out loud and then looked surprised, “that’s Sherri’s number (my aunt)… not our number”.  The minutes didn’t load on this phone and the phone still has the same number as my aunt’s current phone. What a debacle. We still aren’t sure where the minutes went but put Net10 on the growing list of telecom people to call.

(11:45am) Back to work, I was only halfway through our first printing order of the day when I got a phone call from CenturyLink. The guy was on his way out to setup our internet/phone in the shop, but at this point I’m wondering why bother? Anyone got a tin can and a string? I’m about ready to kick it old school and tie hand quilled invoices to doves to deliver and hope they bring back payments.

I quickly finish the job we’re working on because I knew there would be a pause when he got there. My dad saw him pull through the gate and as soon as he said “he’s here” my cell phone rang…. It was Lisa, my grandma’s hairdresser. 
(Remember #1 This is Arkansas #2 I love Nanny- my grandma we’re referring to here and #3 I’m central contact point for Maysville, apparently.) Back to Lisa’s call-
Lisa:  “Hey Jacob, have you talked to your grandparents today? I’m worried something happened, they didn’t make it to their 12 o’clock and I can’t get a hold of them- that’s not like her…”

Jacob: “Yes, I was just down there and their phone is out and he just lost his cell… But don’t worry their appointment was at 2, right? That’s what she told me just 15 minute ago and they are planning on being there”

Lisa: “Is there anyway you can go tell them they missed their appointment? Maybe they can borrow your phone to call me back and reschedule.”

Jacob: “Uh-oh, oh-no and okay”

At this point my dad hears my end of the conversation and says “Do I need to go tell them they missed it?” sort of hastily, I said yes confused as to why he was in a hurry. I look out the window to see the CenturyLink guy is stopped in the road talking to my grandparents, who are now leaving to go get their hair cut, permed, and washed. The CenturyLink guy comes on out to the shop as I watch my dad, seemingly in slo-mo, take off across the yard to catch them.

(11:55am) Sorry it took so long to account for 10 minutes of my life, but wow.  So the CenturyLink guy asks me if I’m related to “Mr.Scott”? To which I say “Yes, all of us.” Because he had then met all three “Mr.Scott’s” of Maysville.

He continues (imagine this in a cyber native Arkansan accent):
“Yeah, his phone line… I fixed it last week when it went out. The problem with his line is that it runs through the other way…”

(Aside- our property lies between two telecom lines and also two power companies, our home and shop phone line comes in from the south while my grandparents comes from the north)

“… That darn line is so chewed up and bad. I’m trying to get CL to come run a new line for them. Their line now runs through two creeks and it floods every time it rains, then that makes all them mice and rats nest up in our service boxes. That’s what’s making their phone and Internet go out. I cleaned out two mice nests up in that service box last week but I’ll back and clean it out again.”

Basically what he was saying is: If CenturyLink doesn’t fix the problem, this morning may be repeated for you on a weekly basis. Ahhh…

Wednesday’s are also a short day for my dad and I in the shop because we have to quit around 4:45 so he can go get ready to drive the church bus and pick up kids all over the tri-state. So a quick recap of the rest of the day… My dad caught my grandparents at the mailbox, they used his phone and sweet talked Lisa into fitting them in that afternoon. My dad then got a call from a friend and had to leave quickly to go help him. Somehow through the chaos of the day, we still ended up getting about 500 prints done, which is a semi-normal day.
 

All in a day’s work

 

I text Brittney and said “God is calling me to be a comedian because he is giving me so much content today, I don’t even know what to do with it all.”  I told it all to her when she got home, who I’m sure found it more amusing and humorous than you just did, and suggested I guest post on her blog. Sorry if you find yourself saying “Geez, that was a great read for wasting 10 minutes” and you’re welcome if you needed to waste 10 minutes reading someone’s mundane recollection of Wednesday, March 2nd.

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Celebration, Culture, Dessert

To-Do Tally

I literally have about half a dozen to do lists going right now. I have things written everywhere, on every scrap of paper that was within reach at the moment. I have things written on my hand. Earlier, I had the feeling I was forgetting something, so I checked the list on my hand, thinking that was where I had hastily written it down at. When I discovered the thing I had forgotten wasn’t there, I actually checked my other palm to make sure it wasn’t written down there before remembering that if it were written there, it would’ve been written with my left hand, rendering it unreadable anyway. So, then I went in search of the scrap of paper I had written it down on, which I have yet to find. This has been my whole week. Welcome to June.

How my brain looks

How my brain looks

To add to the madness, I (the named Special Events Coordinator at church) decided we should do Vacation Bible School early this year because I waited until the end of July last year and it was blazing hot. So, I planned our VBS for next week. Good idea. I took orders for 2048 pieces this week, which will go into production in the shop next week. Guess who I chose to help me with VBS and head up Storytime and Crafts. Only the two most dependable guys I know, who also happen to be my co-workers. My brain is frazzling just trying to think of how everything is getting accomplished. Thus, the million to-do/remember this lists.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Northwest Arkansas, this past week has also been what we fondly refer to as “Walmart Week”. Some people love it, some people hate it. To be honest, I haven’t looked up from my desk long enough to notice it much. But, the traffic is worse when we go out to make deliveries, so there’s that. Walmart is an institution around here. We live 20 miles from where it was founded and there is a lot of pride associated with it in this area. Say what you want about it, but it has brought a lot of jobs and we have a thriving local economy to show for it. It is just a way of life around here.

At the Walmart Museum in Bentonville with a replica of Sam Walton's original truck

At the Walmart Museum in Bentonville with a replica of Sam Walton’s original truck

In case you aren’t super familiar with Walmart, I’ll provide you a few facts [which were provided to me by Jake because #1: he’s always got useless, interesting facts like this floating around in his head and #2: do you really think I would know this on my own?]

Fact #1: If Walmart were a country, it’s GDP would land it #26 in the world, right after Austria and right before Norway.

Fact #2: Walmart is the world’s largest employer, just in front of the US Department of Defense and the Chinese Army.

Fact #3: The people who work at Walmart corporate are known as Wal-Martians here.

Fact #4: Wal-Martians can give you the reference number of every store in the area. So, instead of calling it Bentonville Walmart, it is known as Store 100.

So, what is Walmart Week? It is the week where the shareholders from all around the world flood into Northwest Arkansas and are provided with free concerts every night (Train, Lifehouse, and Lynard Skynard among others have been on the docket this year.) There are celebrities that come into town to speak and host events. It’s always a surprise, so everyone goes to the event not knowing which A-List celeb is going to show up on the stage. This year Reese Witherspoon was the MC of the event. It’s kind of a big deal apparently. I don’t go to any of the events, but all my friends who work for Walmart go and so I hear all about it. The celebs and concerts aren’t really my concern. What is my concern is the fact that I went to Sam’s Club last night (basically the wholesale store of a regular Walmart) and noticed that they had fresh flowers in the bathrooms and free cupcakes at the door. Forget all the other hoopla, where there are free cupcakes, there I will be. Walmart, you are welcome here.

Fresh flowers at the sinks

Fresh flowers at the sinks

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Culture, Farm, Food

Afternoon Explorer

Looks like I’m the proud new owner of a black baby calf. Should I say baby calf since calf kind of implies baby in the first place? Should it be either calf or baby cow? I’m not sure, but either way, Ellie just had her baby and he (72% sure it’s a he) is really cute.
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As I said before, it has rained pretty relentlessly here lately. Which means a lot of things. 1) it means that my sweet potato slips are still in the windowsill, not in the garden because the ground is too wet to put them out 2) it means that the hay hasn’t been put up yet because we can’t get enough dry days in a row to let it dry out. 3) it means my raspberries are growing abundantly and 4) it means that the water gaps may or may not have washed out with the influx of so much rainwater.
Latest bounty

Latest bounty

What is a water gap, you may ask? Well in my own terms, it is a fence across the water to keep cows from passing through to land they shouldn’t be on. I’m fairly sure that’s an accurate description, but you’d have to ask someone more technical than me to be sure. We have land that has a creek running all the way through it, so after a big rain, checking the water gaps is one of the essential duties. After visiting my grandparents, my dad was going to check them and I decided to tag along because why not? And also because, while I love my grandparents, they can be kinda loony sometimes. I walked into their house the other day to see them both in a dither because my grandpa had committed to preach a funeral on the same day, at the same exact time that my grandma had committed him to preach a different funeral. Phone calls were being made frantically, calendars were pulled out, and in the midst of the commotion, my brother off handedly commented that it was strange to have two at the same time because it “wasn’t even funeral season yet.” To which my grandma agrees. Because apparently, around here, we have a funeral season. [It is true though, it isn’t funeral season right now. It’s wedding season.] My grandpa preaches a lot of funerals and weddings, in case you couldn’t tell.
Water Gap

Water Gap

Back to the water gaps though. I’ve been a lot of places in the world and done a lot of fun, crazy things. But I think what is best is when you can walk out your door and have adventure at your fingertips. Traveling is good, but home is really good too. I’m reading the Adventures of Tom Sawyer right now (I’m on a classics kick) and I think this is a scene straight from the book.
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You know how sometimes you think of something and think that it is a good idea until you try to execute said idea and then it becomes apparent that it wasn’t a good idea? That’s usually how my brain works. So, I saw this tree that was down across the creek and thought it would be a good idea to climb on it. Why I think things like this, I have no idea. I like climbing. Anyway, when I saw it and thought it, then I had to do it. There was no turning back. So, I waded out into the water and discovered that instead of the 4 foot height I thought it was, it was, in fact, quite a bit taller. Making it nearly impossible for me to conquer. Emphasis on the word nearly. After jumping on some slippery creek rocks and coming close to falling down, I finally managed (with some expert maneuvering) to find a place in the trunk that looked like it was made for me to sit down on. Which confirmed (after the previous few moment’s doubt) that this was a good idea after all. Plus, it made for a cool picture. And, to add a final bright note to the day, the water gaps were in good condition. Looks like Ellie and her new little Elliott won’t be escaping to greener pastures any time soon.
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Celebration, Food, Mexico

Cinco Celebrations

I currently have three drinks in the car. This is a habit that drives the people around me crazy. I have a lime water, coffee and tea. I like to stay well hydrated, what can I say. Plus, I have 9 stops on my list today, so I’m gonna need the proper amount of caffeine to make it through all of this. My brother thought it was a good idea to make Teacher Appreciation gifts to give out at local schools with our business information on it. Good idea? Yes. Driving around Northwest Arkansas to execute the good idea? Me.

Our

Our “In a Crunch and need shirts fast? Call us!” promotional (idea creds: me)

Since its Cinco de Mayo and since I have an admittedly involved and tangled love affair with Mexican food, I thought that deserved a special post. Am I right or am I right? My mainstay: a little taco shop where they let you pile on as much cilantro and onion as you please. This gem was discovered a couple years ago and me and Wanda (the owner’s daughter and my order taker) are on a first name basis. She also knows my order, which makes it super convenient for me. Is it bad that I get the same thing every time? Maybe. Is it bad that I go here often enough for someone to know my order? Probably.

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You order at the counter and then when your food is up, they yell your number from a window, in either English or Spanish. I don’t know how they know which language to use, but trust me, they always know. Your #1 job at this point: know your number. And, as soon as they yell your number, you better be hustling because they’ll continue to yell it until they see it’s claimed. It holds up the whole process if you don’t get up there quickly, so you’ve always gotta be on your toes. This is Mexican food, it’s serious business.

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Ok, let me take a side road here into a different topic, but still related. The place I just told you about is a taqueria (meaning they specialize in tacos and burritos, although this one also offers sopes and tamales, both of which are delicious as well, but I digress). There are also pupuserias (specializing in pupusas, a special and altogether different delicacy from El Salvador) and panaderias (specializing in baked goods) in our area. Rule #1: don’t go into a taqueria and ask if they have pupusas. Rule #2: don’t go into a pupuseria and ask if they have chilequiles (a Mexican dish with eggs, don’t forget: you are {hypothetically} in a Salvadoran restaurant at this point.) A pupuseria will typically have tacos but taquerias won’t have pupusas. It’s confusing, I know, but seeing as how I basically have a degree in Latino dishes, it all makes sense. Just trust me. These are pretty hard and fast rules. But, there are always exceptions. Doing this is essentially the equivalent of going into a pizza place and asking if they have fried chicken. Which, come to think of it, they might. This is America, after all.

Not the mainstay, but another very good option

Not the mainstay, but another very good option

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Mexican food. So, I have my standard orders at all my different places, but sometimes when you see something different, you should try it because you never know. So, I ventured into La Super Quesadilla (not as Americanized as it’s name would lead you to believe, don’t be fooled.) It’s weird how walking into a place where no one speaks English and everyone stares at you because you are literally the only white person there can make you feel so at home. I decided to order the most difficult thing to pronounce on the menu. Tlacoyos. And when I executed the pronunciation correctly in my first try, my waitress seemed thoroughly impressed, like maybe she had judged the blonde girl all wrong. (Thank you Mrs. Henson for all the Spanish you did and didn’t teach me. Remember: today is Teacher Appreciation day)

I ordered mine with chicken

I ordered mine with chicken

Tlacoyos is one I’ve been wanting to try for awhile. It is pretty much a huge tortilla with a bunch of vegetables and nopales on it. And in case you aren’t up on your Spanish, nopal is cactus. And I have to tell you, it was really good. I would definitely order it again. If you see it on a menu, it’s a must try! Plus, this was the biggest tortilla I think I’ve seen in my whole life. And, trust me, I’ve seen a lot of tortillas in my day.

And, no, I didn't finish this whole thing, in case you were wondering.

And, no, I didn’t finish this whole thing, in case you were wondering.

And to end this post, I feel it is my duty to have us all take a moment to remember General Zaragoza (of the Mexican army circa 1862) and his victory over the French army and thank this kind man for making a day where it is appropriate for millions of Americans to gorge themselves on Mexican food to honor a victory in a battle in which we didn’t even fight. Amen.

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Auto, Cars, Travel

Jeepers Creepers

Remember how we were talking about how I get weird job assignments, like organizing kindergarten signatures? Well, I think this might top that.

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I always hope that my brother gets a good nights sleep. #1: I have to work with him, so I don’t want to deal with any crankiness. #2: we run a business together, so when everyone is well rested, we are more productive, and productivity = profitability. #3 (and this might be the most important): if he wakes up in the middle of the night and can’t sleep, he’ll sometimes do “research” and end up buying things we don’t need. Our eBay account is linked to my email address and I woke up to this notification on my phone.

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We have been talking about needing a better delivery vehicle because shoving 15+ boxes of shirts in my Honda is getting a little tiresome. And, we have talked about a Jeep. But, we hadn’t talked about buying one (sight unseen) from an eBay auction. Only a small detail, right? Well, that’s what we ended up with. A 1990 Jeep that was used by the National Forestry department in the Mark Twain National Forest in Missouri.

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Three other small details that weren’t mentioned. #1: the Jeep is located in southeast Missouri. #2: the Jeep is a manual. #3: neither of us know how to drive a standard. But why dwell on the small details?

Missouri has a reputation around here. I live close to the border on the southwest side, so depending on who you talk to, you’ll get varying opinions. When the man selling the Jeep called to ask if we would trade part of the cost on the vehicle for three feeder pigs, I knew exactly the type of person we were dealing with. So, I spent my morning calling all the local pig farms I knew of to see when they’d have some feeder pigs ready. Unfortunately (or probably fortunately), all the pigs still needed a few weeks until they were ready. Hauling three squealing pigs across the state isn’t really my idea of a great time anyway.

The man selling this Jeep has quite a story. Unfortunately, he is not the most politically correct individual, so most of his stories, I can’t repeat. I’ll summarize: he got hit by a semi-truck while walking near the highway (yes, this is actually a true story) and has continued to fall on hard times and that was his reason for selling the Jeep. When we showed up to his place (with more “over the bridge and past the barn” directions), he informed us that the neighbor had recently killed his son-in-law (three shots: two in the back and one in the head) and was now in prison. He also informed us that he hadn’t seen or heard anything. Yes, this is still a true story. So, obviously, I really wanted to stick around and hear all the rest of his stories. Plus, he had a bathtub in his front yard. I feel like that speaks for itself.

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We’re not tire kickers, so after a few minutes of looking under the hood and firing it up, we were ready to make a deal. While he was getting the paperwork together, he continued telling stories about run ins with game wardens, planting green beans, the time he rode a bicycle to a city 50 miles from there to get a job, how he got fired from said job, and ended up back on his grandparents farm, and is trying to get everything back up and running (the motor for his truck was sitting on his porch). I don’t know how I get so lucky to come across characters like him and why they feel the need to tell their life stories, but all I know is I run into a lot of them and they’re all more interesting than the last. So, moral of the story: never judge a house by the bathtub sitting in the front yard or a Jeep by it’s previous owner.

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Farm, Food, Garden

Honeyberry Heaven

Let me start off. I’ve never been good with directions. I get turned around, don’t pay attention, for whatever reason, I always get lost. But, I blame this on growing up in Arkansas. We have no sort of grid system, we have curvy little highways that run through the hills and small towns. So, if you don’t know where you’re going, you may not get there. I have been wanting Honeyberry bushes since I heard of them. And, it just so happens that the largest grower and supplier of Honeyberry bushes in the US is located a few towns over from us. What luck! Honey berries are similar to blueberries, but bigger and more prolific.

Berry farm

Berry farm

So, my dad called the place and scheduled for us to go pick the plants up. Never having been to this place, he asked the girl on the phone where they were located? During high school, I worked at my uncle’s drug store and when anyone called to ask me for directions, it was a disaster. And, the girl working at the berry place was apparently just like me.

That's her in the orange

That’s her in the orange

Dad told her he knew how to get to the town and what highway we’d be coming in on. We needed directions from there. Here are the exact directions she gave: “Drive past the guy who builds the little buildings and if you look through the trees, you’ll see a barn up on a hill. Turn on the little lane by the barn. If you get to the bridge, you’ll know you’ve gone too far.” See, this is how we give directions in Arkansas. Which bridge? Which barn? You’ll know when you see it. So, we drove and came to what I thought was the right barn. It was on a hill. But there were no trees. Nope, not the right one. We crossed a bridge, but there was never a guy building the little buildings before it, so that couldn’t have been right.

Not the right barn.

Not the right barn.

After driving around for about thirty minutes trying to find this place, we stumbled upon it. And sure enough, there was a little barn through the trees on the hill and a little lane. The owner later informed us, in a heavy Russian accent, that “Barbara runs the phone, so don’t call because Barbara is no good.”

The right barn.

The right barn.

When I was little, people always asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. I changed my mind all the time. And I’ve changed my mind again. I want to be this lady. She was one of the leading pioneers to bring honey berries to the US and she knows her stuff. She spouted off information about planting and growing and everything in between as fast as I could understand it.

Giving instructions

Giving instructions

I asked her how long she’d been growing berries. {Insert thick Russian accent here} “I grow berries in Russia since I was 9 years old. I’m 54 now.” That’s a lot of years of berry growing. I think I’ve got some catching up to do before I can be like her, but I’m getting a start on it. I’m not sure I’ll ever achieve that accent, but that’s okay, I’ve got an accent of my own and I’m fine with that. The honeyberries are in the ground and the raspberries look like they’ll be putting on blooms any day now. And, I’ve got the email address of the best berry lady in the land, so I think I’m set. Let the berry growing commence.

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Farm, Food, Garden

On Guard!

I have a cow. Her name is Ellie. Because she had an L on her head and I bought her when I was 14, so that seemed like an appropriate name. Actually, it still seems pretty appropriate.

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Growing up on a farm gave me the opportunity to learn a lot of different things. And when I say opportunity, what I really mean is necessity. As in, I was an extra set of hands, so I was just told what to do and how to do it. Which, I guess, is a pretty effective way to learn.

The other day, dad decided to teach me about fencing. Not the medieval, stick a fake sword into you kind of fencing. Like fixing fence. So probably no one else calls that fencing, except for me. After he showed me how to clip the barbwire to the posts, he decided to impart some knowledge to me. “A cow can get their head through there if they find a slick spot, but these barbs are gonna cut a little bit.” Well, yeah, they are.

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I proved him correct, two seconds later, after the wire popped back and caught my cheek. Luckily, it’s just a scratch. But, I’m pretty prone to incidences like this. If I can spill it, drop it, lose it, stain it, trip over it, hit my head on it, it’ll happen. You get the vibe. I walked through my door the other day and managed to get one of my belt loops stuck on the door knob. How does this happen? I have no idea. But, I about fell down trying to get myself unlatched. The fence did get done though, not much thanks to me.

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Leave me in the garden and I’ll be good. There’s not much to hurt yourself there, just me and the dirt and the seeds. I currently have snap peas and cabbage seedlings coming up. And, a load of raspberry offshoots that I am trying to transplant to everywhere else. Basically, they’re taking over and I’m in the process of reallocating all the land to make a raspberry farm. Newest additions to the seed startlings? Parsnips, rutabagas, radishes, and beets. I spent all winter picking out exactly what I wanted to plant and it’s finally time. Things are starting to get serious around here.

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