Bushel Baskets

We got a catalogue from LEHMAN'S in the mailbox today.
On the back page there's a picture of two bushel baskets.
 -- one with a blue liner trimmed in yellow gingham
 -- one with a red liner trimmed in blue gingham.

This brings me another chance to skip down memory lane . . .

A long time ago before plastic clothes baskets were available
people used bushel baskets to carry laundry to the clothes line.
The trouble with that is clothes could get snagged or maybe even stained
if they were in the wooden basket for too long.  Someone came up with
liners for baskets.  They were wonderful.

One day when my family was shopping
I overheard mom say she needs a
liner for a basket. 

Little people have a lot of trouble hearing.

Mom said basket.
I heard the word *baskin*
Baskin was our copper colored spaniel at home. 

Of course!  She was buying something special for our dog.

All through the store and in the car all the way home
I looked forward to giving a present to Baskin. 

We got home. 

Mom slipped the liner over the
wooden bushel basket.  She carefully
lined up the openings to fit over the metal handles.

Then came the questions . . .
and the explanations 
and the disappointment when I found out the liner
was not for our puppy.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This afternoon I called the driving instructor to schedule three
two hour sessions for Krysta.  Before calling I told her she probably
will have to wait until September.

The look of horror and disbelief on her face was priceless. 
That's exactly what I found out.  They are booked and the first
opening is almost the middle of September.

Speaking of permits, I also have a permit and need to practice
driving a school bus with air brakes this summer. 
This is not my favorite thing to do . . .
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tripping down memory lane took Krysta and me to Walnut Grove MN
and De Smet SD last week end.  My sister, Trenda, asked if we'd like to go. 
We jumped at the chance.  We drove to Walnut Grove on Friday, arriving
about four in the afternoon.  Trenda and Brooke were on a bus tour. 
They went to see the caved in dug out On the Banks of Plum Creek. 
While we waited for them to get back we browsed around the gift shop
and then paid a small fee to step through the door to wander down the path
to a school house and a small church house and several other buildings
displaying old time stuff.  The path went past prairie grasses and wild flowers.

Next on the agenda was a picnic supper,
then we hopped in with Trenda and drove
out of town to the Pageant.


~  and this will have to be continued

Country Mouse and City Mouse and . . . Salamanders

Some of my friends have moved from the city to the country.
I am proud of them.  It has to be a huge adjustment.  I don't know if I could
do the reverse movement from country to town/city.

Never say *never* since we know what often happens when people make
loud proclamations like, "We will never move to a city!  Never!"

Except for about five weeks or so in Fort Wayne, Indiana as a newborn
and then a few months as a toddler in a tiny town in North Dakota I've lived
all my life in the country.

Krysta and I had a teensy tiny experience of lawn care in town the other week.

Who mows the lawn when there's a foreclosure on a property?
The grass keeps growing even if no one is home. 

Ellis has a knack for finding odd jobs to keep his family busy.

On the 16th of June we had buckets of rain.
We found out we needed to mow this neglected lawn on the 17th.
Jorgan was at summer camp so Krysta and I offered to help.
Ellis went home, loaded the walk- behind mower, drove back,
unloaded the mower and went to work.

Krysta and I changed clothes, loaded rakes and shovels and drinking
water and followed.  We had the job of raking up debris, loading up
firewood for camp fires, walking around the house and emptying every
container that was full and overflowing with rain water. 

Ellis had to go do some mechanic work on Evan's car about then.
It wouldn't start.

Krysta and I were going to tackle a pile of rubbish behind the garage.
We moved a tarp that was growing into the ground, then I grabbed a
dust pan that was partly buried.  There was a black, slithery movement
in the hole.

I am happy to say we did not scream . . . I suppose part of the reason was
we remembered - in time - that we were in town and one can't just scream
for no reason in town where there are neighbors on all sides.

One nice neighbor who had loaned us a tool for yanking out small trees
was sitting on her patio enjoying the beautiful evening.  We didn't want to
scare her with shrieks and terrified facial expressions and flying skirts. 

On the whole it seems we handled ourselves in a
calm, cool and collected way.

We moved away from the area to a picnic table in the middle of the
lawn and called Deanne.  We even sat on the bench instead of on top
of the table which would have felt much safer under the circumstances. 

I was pretty sure it wasn't a snake because it looked very much like
a salamander that was in our wood pile once
-- in our basement
-- in the country.

Creepy crawly creatures live anywhere, town or country.

And then there are summer camping trips . . . 

Ellis told us the place where we are thinking of camping this summer has
rattlesnakes.  My mind must be processing this info because soon after that
I had a dream about rattlesnakes.

Do any of you remember that story in the Reader's Digest a few years ago 
where a rattlesnake crawled into an occupied sleeping bag?  This guy woke
up when he felt the snake exiting the warm bag in the morning.  I remember
the artist's picture of that scene.  That's what I dreamed about.

Again, I am happy to report, I didn't scream. 
Instead, I got up and got a drink of water then went back to bed
and told myself, "It's just a dream." 

. . . and fell asleep. 

Miracles still happen and I am thankful.

There's no need to worry about maybe one day
being called to move to a big city.
God will be with us where
ever He asks us to go.

Isaiah 55

I know there is a way to link you to the news report of the missing man from Austin MN who apparently fell into a swiftly flowing river in Idaho and has not been found. 

This is one of the things I still don't know how to do.   please don't laugh

Our thoughts and prayers go out to this family
and all of the friends and neighbors in our area.
The verse that keeps going through my mind is this: 
And Enoch walked with God: and he was not;
for God took him.  Genesis 5:24

And these verses:  For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.  For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.   Isaiah 55: 8-9

This chapter in Isaiah is beautiful and one of my favorites.

Our God Is Sovereign

Today I heard of a village that was covered up by a landslide. 
Hundreds are dead.


In our hometown newspaper the front page reports
a 16 year old boy was killed in a car crash.


The same newspaper tells me a school friend from many years ago
is welcoming a grandchild into the family.


We have dear friends facing health problems. 
There is a new picture on their shelf of the
smallest great-grand-child.


On the news today in a town relatively close to us a young man was found to have everything he needed to set off mass destruction in his house, town and school.  Someone reported suspicious behavior and called in authorities.  Everything was discovered in time.


Tornadoes swept across the Midwest earlier this week . . .


A friend of our friends may have been swept away by a rushing river -- they have rescue workers searching on the ground and a helicopter flying overhead.


We are helpless.  He is the God of all comfort, the one who is with each of us at this very moment.


This is the Psalm I read this morning.

Psalm 103

King James Version (KJV)

103 Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless his holy name.

² Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits:
³ Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases;
⁴ Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies;
⁵ Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's.
⁶ The Lord executeth righteousness and judgment for all that are oppressed.
⁷ He made known his ways unto Moses, his acts unto the children of Israel.
⁸ The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy.
⁹ He will not always chide: neither will he keep his anger for ever.
¹⁰ He hath not dealt with us after our sins; nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.
¹¹ For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy toward them that fear him.
¹² As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.
¹³ Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.
¹⁴ For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust.
¹⁵ As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.
¹⁶ For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.
¹⁷ But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him, and his righteousness unto children's children;
¹⁸ To such as keep his covenant, and to those that remember his commandments to do them.
¹⁹ The Lord hath prepared his throne in the heavens; and his kingdom ruleth over all.
²⁰ Bless the Lord, ye his angels, that excel in strength, that do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word.
²¹ Bless ye the Lord, all ye his hosts; ye ministers of his, that do his pleasure.
²² Bless the Lord, all his works in all places of his dominion: bless the Lord, O my soul.


All of this is too overwhelming . . .
-- too mind boggling

There is only one person to turn to.
That person is God, our Heavenly Father
and His Son, Jesus Christ
and the Holy Spirit, our Comforter.

The windows on the bus

The windows on the bus go down, down, down . . .
In the winter it's no trouble keeping the windows of the bus closed
since arctic air is swirling around us.
The minute it starts to get the least bit warm students are begging
to open the windows.


"It's still cold!" I protest.


"But it's spring!" they wail.  "And we've been in a stuffy school all day!"


We had one week of 70* so the windows were down.


I reminded the students of two rules.
Please don't yell out the windows when we pass friends or foes out there on the side walk.
and . . .  Student will keep head and hands inside bus.


Otherwise we will lose the privilege of open windows on the bus.


I caught one guy happily sticking his face out the window and yelling to friends.


"Don't you remember the rule about the windows?"
Puzzled look on his freckled face . . . "No, not really."


"The one about keeping your head and hands inside?"


"No, I don't thinks so," as he rubs his head thoughtfully.


Oh come on!  I know this has been a long winter but does he expect me to believe that?


 

One afternoon I mentioned to some middle school students

that we had a couple of harrowing bus runs.

. . .  and they had missed out on it because they were gone a couple days.

Now they were riding again and it seemed like they were getting ready

to cause a ruckus all over again.

 

One student stared at me with wide eyes. 


I asked what was wrong.

 

It turns out this student misunderstood me and thought I was talking about
a very dangerous habit forming drug.  

 

"Look it up in the dictionary," I said, when they asked what harrowing
 meant.  They thought looking it up on-line would be much easier.  

 

A harrow is a frame with spikes or sharp-edged disks,
drawn by horse or tractor 

- used for breaking up and leveling plowed ground,
covering seeds, rooting up weeds

 

Harrowing - adj. very painful or distressing 
World Book Dictionary 

- to cause mental distress to; torment; vex

Webster's New World  College Dictionary

 

Maybe I was exaggerating to say we had two harrowing days. 

They weren't that painful or distressing.    

 

This episode reminded me of Anne Hobbs in the book, Tisha.

Anne was teaching school in Chicken, Alaska back in 1927.
One of her students asked why they have to all come to school at
the same time and all eat lunch at the same time. 


quote:
"How come you can't do things when you feel like it?"
"If everyone did it would be like a three-ring circus," I said.
"What's a three-ring circus?" Elvira asked.
"Well," I said,  "it's like a chautauqua, only it's bigger. 
It has elephants and clowns and ---"
"What's a shuh-tawk-wa?"Jimmy asked hesitantly.
I explained that a chautauqua was like a fair, only to have
Elvira ask what a fair was.  By the time I was finished nobody
really had any idea of what a three-ring circus was like.
They had never seen clowns, or jungle animals, or acrobats.
If I was going to cite examples I'd have to pick things they were familiar
with--gold mining and trapping, dog teams and hunting.
- end of quote

One day not long after this I was explaining to my students that
a bus is not a gym or a play ground.  They can't do acrobatic stunts
on the backs of the seats.
One girl slid across the aisle and sat on the seat beside her friend. 
"Debbie!* You can't turn the bus into a three-ring circus, you know!"


    hmmm!   did she just read my mind or what? 

* names have been changed

 

Sweet Sixteen!

Our youngest daughter turned 16 on the 30th of March. 
She is being very sweet and patient with us since we cancelled
"driving with the instructor" in the month of March. 
The roads were awful.
Driving in town was an adventure --
   especially residential areas
   high snow banks
   cars parked on both sides of the street
Many streets looked like one ways
when in fact they were supposed to be two way.
You had to drive slowly and wait your turn to get through some spots.


And, last but not least, our family was in the middle of planning a trip to Washington towards the end of March.  So I called the instructor and asked if there is a deadline we have to meet between class time and driving.  She was very understanding and, thankfully, there is not a deadline.


Sigh of relief from me.
Sigh of anxiety from Krysta.


She knows how many things get pushed to the back burner
never to appear again.
"Well," I told the instructor, "I will get in touch with you
when the weather straightens out."
"Ok,"  she said.  "I'll talk to you in June."


Krysta was not amused.


On the 30th of March my thoughts drifted back to another 16 year old.


February 1977
I was a mother's helper for a whole week.  Our friends had a little girl and a little boy when a new baby girl was added to their family.  I stayed at their house to make things easier.  My job was to make meals, wash dishes, take care of laundry, read stories to the little ones, help them with baths and getting dressed and taking naps. 


One day I baked bread all by myself from start to finish.  Looking back, I don't know how that was possible because my girls don't know how to bake bread.  (Dea knows how to make cinnamon rolls that are to die for.)


At our house Mom made bread once a week -- at least.  We bought flour by the fifty pound bags and stored the flour in a big tin "garbage" can.  Mom never had a recipe written down.  She knew it by heart. She measured the water and the yeast exactly.  Otherwise it was a handful of salt, a spoonful of lard,  a spoonful of honey, stir until melted in the hot water - then start dumping in the flour.  She measured the flour with a sifter instead of by the cup.  When she had the flour measured she let us girls stir until it was too stiff to stir then she added one more sifter full of flour and it was time to knead the dough. 


And that's how I learned to make bread - by watching Mom every week and eventually doing it by myself.


My girls are learning to make quilts from start to finish instead.
In home ec .. .. .. 
  taught by my mom.  =)


Back to the week away from home . . . I had my 16th birthday somewhere in the middle of that adventure.  My family and friends brought a surprise party to me.  They knocked on the door, yelled "Happy Birthday!" and served cake and ice cream all around.


Last night we had a birthday supper over at Evan and Chelsea's place.  Krysta, Chelsea, and Jorgan have birthdays close together so we've started having one big party for all.


Here is the menu:
Chicken
Fried rice
Green beans
Lettuce salad
home made bread  (fresh from my mom's kitchen)
Cake and Ice Cream


And a Happy Anniversary to Dad and Mom
          who have been married 54 years!

1966 Blizzard

Every now and then I try and figure out if this is the hard winter
as in The Long Winter  written by Laura Ingalls Wilder.  My head
gets too tired with all of that math so I soon give it up.  This is what
happened back in March 1966 in northern MN. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There's a smell of fresh coffee in the air as we sit at my parents round, oak table. Dad has brought the crackling brown newspaper from the file cabinet and we pore over it, coffee cups in hand. My finger traces the name, The Baudette Region, and the date, Wednesday, March 9, 1966. There are questions galore about that long ago day.

How could an airplane get stuck in a field?

How did you shovel all that snow?

Who brought the snow mobile to our place?

And the question that forever sticks in my mind . . .

do I remember this?

or am I imagining it because I've heard the story told so often?

 

My family lived in a little house a couple miles south of Graceton, MN. There were three of us girls. I was barely five, Ladina was almost four and Trenda would turn two in May. We had a copper colored cocker spaniel named Baskin. Baskin was the delight of our lives. We were thrilled with her family of puppies.

 

This storm blew in from the west, successfully shutting down the whole area. For two days snow fell and winds up to 45 mph whipped around the corners of our house. With 18" of fresh snow fall we weren't going anywhere.

 

To add to the excitement, the little people of our household were coughing and sneezing. Trenda, especially, had a deep hacking cough.

 

Dad stayed home from work Thursday and Friday. Saturday morning was bright and clear. Dad started the enormous task of shoveling us out of a snow bank. Our green Volkswagen was buried under a mound of snow. 

 

Between sneezes, Ladina and I scraped the frost off the windows and pressed our noses to the glass. We watched the path grow longer and longer as Dad's shovel bit into the snow. Baskin frisked around, barking, long ears flopping; tail wagging, and generally making a nuisance of herself.

 

We ran to the door and opened it when Dad came in to eat breakfast. The wood in our cook stove crackled cheerfully, warming the kitchen where we gathered to eat. Dad hung his coat on the hook by the door and unbuckled his boots. He warmed his hands by the stove. He noticed Trenda pacing the floor instead of scrambling into her chair. Her face was gray instead of the normal rosy color.

 

After comparing notes with Mom, Dad made a hurried call to Dr. Brink in Baudette.  Thankfully the phone lines were still intact.  He described Trenda's symptoms.  The doctor's instructions were, "Bring her to the hospital today."  Today?!

 

That conversation set a lot of wheels in motion. Actually, I should say wheels and skis. Bob Griffen flew an airplane to the Skrivseth place. As he attempted to taxi from the field to the road the plane got stuck. Then Vern James came by snowmobile and took Mom and Trenda to Graceton. From there a snowplow cleared a lane on HWY 11. Douglas Grund took them to the hospital in Baudette in his pick up. 

 

Both Mom and Trenda had pneumonia. They ended up staying in Baudette for several days . . . Mom with Aunt Hellen and Trenda in the hospital. Dr. Brink told my parents Trenda wouldn't have made it through the night.

 

When I think about that day long ago I picture my dad bundled up in winter clothes, shoveling snow. I can see Baskin, the dog with floppy ears and a litter of pups.  Mom thought of bringing the puppies into the house. They were a distraction to us so we wouldn't run out and follow while Dad, carrying Trenda and breaking a path for Mom, waded through snow to the end of our lane to meet the snowmobile.  Before they started out they called Grandma and Aunt Leah . . . Ladina and I took turns talking to them on the phone. We described the wonders of our puppies to them.

 

Today, we can describe the wonders of our God who plans for our safety down to the minutest detail. Praise His Name!!

 

In the days before we could dial 911 there was a system up and running that helped people in emergencies . . . family and community. Our family is forever grateful to this community.