Chasing Geese

A friend’s post on Facebook today invoked a funny childhood memory from the 50’s about geese.

One time we had two tame geese on the farm.  I don’t know if they were wild geese with their wings clipped or domestic geese, but they were dark colored. Mom thought the geese would eat pests and clean up the sticker patches.  She was a thrifty soul and probably thought this was a great solution.

We three kids weren’t particularly fond of fowl though because cleaning the chicken house was a disgusting, dusty, and stinky job we loathed.  Gathering eggs from under a pecking and disgruntled setting hen was something else on our most hated list. 

These two geese had free run of the farm, and after being chased a few times, we kept a respectful distance from those big wings, webbed feet, and menacing beak!  RoJean, Timmy, and I weren’t at all sad when Gander Goose met his demise under the wheels of a truck. 

We tolerated mean mama only because we were fascinated by her nest of eggs under a feed bin in the barn.  There were story book pictures in our minds of darling little fluffy goslings playing follow the leader around the farm.

One day after weeks of being terrorized by the whole brood, I was leading my 4-H calf around behind the barn when I heard brother Timmy’s go-kart start up on the other side.  Hearing the squawking and commotion, I came around the corner to see feathers flying with Timmy in hot pursuit. There were already several hit and run victims flopping in the driveway. 

Mother said later that being the older sister I should have stopped the slaughter, but I just stood there in mutual agreement and amazement to his remedy to our problem!

Mom was mad at us, but I also recall that our only punishment was finishing killing off the injured geese, and cleaning up the go-kart and the mess in the barnyard.  Maybe mother was weary of watching her own backside too, but whatever the reason, we never had geese on the farm again.

Today when I see chefs on the Food Network touting the delicacy of roast goose and goose liver pate, I shudder, but I also wonder if our farm cats enjoyed the fresh morsels we left behind that day!

Culling Cows

We keep an identification and performance record book of our cows in the pick-up at all times and we refer to it daily when checking cattle. We would be lost without it.

When we buy new cows, they are usually freeze branded with letters and numbers on their hips telling us their birth year.  The also have a corresponding ear tag, but often they lose these tags and the brands fade.  So while they go through our chute and have our own brand put on them, I write a little color description of each girl in the book: black, red, baldy, or brockle.

In a herd of 400-500 cows, however, there are many who look the same and further physical details are needed for identification.  For instance cow T680 is black with white on the left side of her bag or Y390 has one black eye and some white on her tail tip.  At this early stage of the game these are the only details known and their slates are pretty clean; no personality or production disorders are known or written yet. 

When they give birth for us the first time we write down the date and a description of each calf. If the cows are healthy and productive, we usually keep them until they’re 10 years old. In this time some of their records become blotted. They may have bad hoofs or legs, an eye problem, a knot on the neck.  Having trouble calving unaided, having a bad udder, or not enough milk will send her to the sale barn pretty quickly on the Wright Ranch.

Personality characteristics become part of the record too.  One may be a wanderer, always climbing through a fence to greener pastures and requiring more than a single wire electric fence.  She might be very protective of a new calf or turn mean when she’s penned and needs to be watched.  A few are tree hiders. We’ve had some cows who leave the herd two weeks before calving, hiding until the calf is several days old and costing us lots of time looking for her and wondering if she's dead.

Some good traits are recognized also:  gentle, good mother, lots of milk, will take an orphaned calf if necessary, chow dog (first to the horn and the protein pellets!)

The culling gets harder when she just gets old, but has caused us no problems yet. This year some old favorites went to the sale barn.  P101 had a spotless record, was gentle, raised good calves and would let you touch her nose.  M313 calved twins alone twice and raised them herself nicely.   N80 was a big black beauty. 

We’re not horse people anymore so in the fall we drive the herds to the Wilson portable corrals with our 4-wheelers, push the calves back out into the pasture, then begin sorting the cows on foot.  

I don’t get in the pens with them very often any more because I can’t climb the fence fast enough if something goes wrong!  So I stay on the outside with the cull lists I’ve made from the book ahead of time for each group.  The guys sort off the ones I tell them need to be culled and whose calves are old enough to wean.  We load the cull cows and haul them to the sale barn.

I thought a lot about our culling criteria this year and how I fit the description myself.  Bad knees, not tall enough, only produced one live offspring,  not content with the same feed every day, not very herd-bound, tends to enjoy being alone more than most, likes to explore and travel, resists being driven, irritable when confined...

I’m sure glad God’s culling standard isn’t based on looks, health, performance, or personality!  What a blessing to know that Jesus’ blood continues to wipe my record clean and the only criteria for entering heaven and staying in His herd will be that I loved and obeyed Him.

       For God has not destined us for wrath, but for obtaining salvation 

through our Lord Jesus Christ,

Who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep, 

we will live together with Him.

I Thessalonians 5:9-10

Good Places

In Black Mesa country

Editor Pilar Guzman says "Travel is more about changing your state of mind...the departure from routine, the act of discovery...than it is about taking a grand tour. It is precisely the ability to seek out the new (or the old, with fresh eyes) and to maintain a sense of wonder even in our hometowns...."

                                     Departure From Routine

                                     

Bob and I were able to escape the Oklahoma heat for a few days last week. With only one reservation made for that night’s stay in Trinidad, Colorado, we started early with a McDonald’s breakfast in Alva.  Once we got through all the oil field traffic in this area and well into the Panhandle, we began oohing and ahhing through the Black Mesa country. Real mountains in Oklahoma!

Wedding Cake Butte on Wedding Cake Ranch just into New Mexico

The pasture grasses were green, the cattle fat, the good road was mostly ours, and the mountains began to surround us.  We backed up lots of times for photos. Love this area!

 Acts of Discovery

We came upon this unique little stone jail in Branson, New Mexico. There are some interesting stories in ranch country!

Changing Our State of Mind

One of Bob's trip goals was to golf at Cougar Canyon resort outside of Trinidad.  He had seen photos of it on the internet and looked forward to playing there for the past 3 years.  But when we drove in that afternoon, we discovered it had gone into foreclosure and everything stood in a state of abandonment.  Lesson learned: Don’t trust websites…or at least check the dates on them! 

It reminded us of so many big ventures like this that failed in Colorado when we lived there in the 80’s. Thankfully, this was really the only disappointment of our trip and Bob enjoyed golf at the other Trinidad course that evening.

Taking a Grand Tour

We passed lots of interesting old churches on this trip and I decided to make a montage of the photos one of these days.

Next morning we took the Scenic Route 12 loop west of Trinidad up to LaVeta through the Spanish Peaks.  Another unspoiled, sparsely traveled and beautiful road past blue reservoirs, the still working Coalgate mine, fragrant pines and sparkling streams. Photo ops abound!


                                           

At LaVeta Bob joined a friendly Texas threesome for golf with good greens and grand views all around while I explored the little town and more of the old Spanish architecture. 

Grandote Golf Club at LaVeta, Colorado

                                           Maintaining a Sense of Wonder

We found a nice room at Fort Garland that evening and drove out to the Great Sand Dunes.  What a majestic place!  We were expecting some dunes out in the middle of a desert but these huge ever-changing dunes lie right at the foot of the mountains. 

On the deck of the visitor center a couple asked me to take their photo and we had an interesting discussion.  I commented on what I considered improbable about the literature inside that said the dunes were formed millions of years ago by sand coming down the little mountain streams.

 She said “No, I think God just did it.” To which I happily responded “Amen!”  Then he said “I liked what the Indians thought though; that some of their squaws carried all the sand here!” 

Traveling to Taos the next day we passed through several hamlets with interesting churches.  Some well maintained, some abandoned.  Perhaps a commentary on the spiritual lives of past and present residents as well?

                                                         Seeking Out the New

On the outskirts of Taos, we picked out a slab of stone for our new bath vanity and I found a hammered copper sink to go with it.  The Mexican owners and workers were so cheerful and friendly!  Sure enjoyed having a whole empty pick-up bed for BIGTIME shopping Southwest style…my favorite!

Jackalope bargains in Santa Fe

Which color?  Green or blue?  Okay, both!

Landscape ideas abound!

Seeing the Old With Fresh Eyes

We finished loading the truck near Pueblo at Musso's, our favorite farm market, with fresh Rocky Ford cantaloupes, melons, cherries, tomatoes, and onions. What a fine Italian immigrant bunch of farmers they are!

We didn't even buy a tenth of the veggie varieties they have!

Sunday morning we joined our Kansas brothers in Christ in their new activity building at Bible Christian in Garden City for worship and a great sermon. 

Later that day as we drove through the scenic Gyp Hills between Coldwater and Medicine Lodge nearing home, listening to Sirius Escape radio music, we both agreed with editor Guzman's analysis of travel.  There's a grand country to explore and enjoy within only hours of home.  

Lawn Lunacy

Bob and I decided to farm around the homestead this morning since it was a bit cooler (only 87 degrees)!  Weed-eating is one of my least favorite horticultural chores and I'd procrastinated about a month too long. I had to re-drill the holes that hold the wire I repaired the plastic guard with, re-fill the string spool, and re-attach the extension cord several times!

After moving hoses and sprinklers, and for the second time this summer, farmer Bob began fertilizing the Bermuda grass with his four-wheeler and buckets of nitrogen from the local Co-op.

Both of us were soon sweating and visualizing icy Cokes inside the 68 degree house!


Are you noticing something wrong with this picture? 

We spend lots of money for rural water and fertilizer to enjoy green growing grass.  Then more on lawn equipment and we labor trimming, weeding, clipping, and killing bugs to keep our place neat and trimmed.  In last summer's drought, we nearly gave up, but have vowed to keep ahead of the browning this year no matter what.

We see the beautiful yards and patios on HGTV and in magazines where people seem to be out there grilling and entertaining all summer long.  Here in northwest Oklahoma, we seldom have the inclination to sit out on our porches or cook outdoors, especially after a day of working out in the heat.  


One of our friends used to call the horses grazing in the pasture by their driveway their sea horses.  He said they weren't riding horses anymore, they were just see horses!


I guess by the same token that we actually just have see yards and see porches and are beginning to examine this rationale a little more closely!

Free Fresh Fruit

In northwest Oklahoma a lot of our native grass pastures are full of wild sand plum bushes.  Picking these red orbs is an almost annual tradition for those of us who enjoy making & eating the wonderful jelly or jam.  Last year’s drought emptied most of our cupboards of this sweet delicacy, but this was a banner year for sand plums here.   Timely rains, no late freezes, and an early spring have produced a bumper crop.  

Our son Brian always loved fruit and as a child, he was quite willing to go strawberry, cherry, peach, or apple picking with me anytime because he got to liberally sample the fruit of his labor as he picked.  Gathering sand plums with me, however, was a different story. 

The word plum is a bit deceptive.  The fruits at their best are the size of a large marble, but often are just like pie cherries. They are rather hard, tart and require lots of sugar, so only the birds and deer enjoy them straight from the plum thicket.  Not a tasty venture for a grade school boy!

So usually gathering sand plums has been a solitary and sultry experience for me.  Alone, wearing a long sleeve shirt and armed with lots of mosquito spray, I try to go picking in the early morning hours. 

Hearing the bobwhite quail call nearby and startling the occasional deer or turkey in the quiet pastures, my imagination sees pioneer ancestors among the brambles, buckets in hand; disillusioned children leave their baskets behind to play tag or chase a squirrel.  I can visualize Chickasaw Indians, for whom the bush is sometimes named, watching from the nearby hillsides and I feel a part of some long standing gathering tradition. 

Some seasons, however, the picking is an excruciatingly hot and humid experience that no amount of imagining  alleviates. Pricked by the thorns, swatting bugs away, feeling the sweat trickle down your forehead, and longing for a cool breeze make the filling of a bucket seem interminable.

Not so this morning.  The plums are so big and plentiful this year, you can put your bucket at your feet and nearly fill it from a single loaded bush without moving on.  No dainty picking here and there, one plum at a time this year!  Handfuls thrown into the bucket made quick work of my early morning foray into the wild. 

Although the fruit is free and the picking easy, the real work has just begun.  Once home I sort the ripe from the near-ripe into big pans on the kitchen counter.  When I first began picking, I thought you could only use the fully ripe, but have since learned that even those plums with just a flush of pink will soon ripen to bright red.

In a couple days when most of the fruits are crimson and softened, I’ll bring up the jelly jars from the basement, get out the colander, wooden pestle and big blue enamel cooking pot.  If I'm busy farming, I sometimes just pour the prepared plum juice in containers and freeze it to can later at a more convenient time. 

Otherwise, gathering some new lids, I’ll be ready to can jelly now.  It takes lots of sugar and a little pectin, but soon I’ll be admiring the sparkling little jars cooling in neat rows nearby.

Besides putting the jelly and jam on toast or peanut butter sandwiches for the grandkids, I often use it to make sweet and sour sauce for Chinese food and even add some to cherry pies once in awhile.  

Spreading the sweet redness on a hot biscuit some cold morning this winter, I’ll fondly remember the Great Picking of 2012.  A few appreciative farming landlords and special friends will enjoy some in their Christmas baskets too. 

Some traditions are still worth the trouble. 

The Burlington Drug Store

The original Burlington drug store

On Facebook this week a friend mentioned some recollection of the old drug store in our hometown of Burlington, Oklahoma.  My mind was flooded with snapshot memories of that little spot.

We just called it the drug store, but it was once known as the  Burlington Confectionery. Several families owned the store at different times: Harley Crowl, Harmon Campbell, Dr. Charles Shapiro, Mac Mullinox, John Alder, Ralph Kisling, Don Andrews, Frank Schupbach, George Michel, Marcine Diel, Herman “Breezy” Jones and Bob and Helen Hofer.  I remember Breezy & Stella Jones best because they had 2 kids near our age and we were fascinated to find they all lived in a little apartment at the back of the store.

 When I was in the 4^th grade, we moved from Cherokee to Burlington and we were delighted to learn that on Fridays the grade school kids were allowed to go across the street to the drug store during lunch hour to buy a snack.  My sister and I got a nickel about every other week, so it was a real treat to hurry in and gaze into the big glass case of candy and gum to make our selection.

We also enjoyed watching the high school couples sharing a soda and sweet looks in the few booths available!

A beautiful, classic soda fountain complete with polished wood, lamps, a huge mirror, marble counter and stools filled the south side of the building. 

There were glass cases and shelves of sundry items across from it on the north wall.  I can still see and smell the blue bottles of Evening in Paris cologne on display there.

Most days there were two tables of men playing dominoes and swapping farm stories at classic round ice cream tables with wire back chairs toward the rear of the store.

In those days before ice machines, big blocks of clear ice were purchased at the Kiowa, Kansas ice plant and chipped by hand into the drinks.  Ice cream was hand dipped from the reservoirs built into the soda fountain. 

In the summer about every two weeks, free movies were shown at the park on the white washed side of the co-op station.  Families brought their lawn chairs or blankets to watch the old family favorites.  Afterward we would hurry down to the drug store before it closed to buy a cold, icy root beer.  For some reason you could buy a root beer for 5 cents, but a coke cost a dime, so my sister and I became big root beer fans for awhile.

The business has been gone for a long time but the old building is still there.  Now the school kids  walk right past it a couple blocks further to the C Store for their treats.  I doubt that their modern convenience store experiences will hold the same sweet nostalgic memories that the Burlington drug store does for us, but who knows what great changes there may be in the confectionery business of the future!

Cooking For a King

It's a good thing that I like to cook because it seems like my husband's favorite foods cannot be duplicated with some Sandra Lee easy fix shortcut method or a Sara Lee frozen product.

His favorite waffles come from his mom's recipe. She was a home ec teacher and a hard act to follow!  The waffle recipe involves melting butter, sifting dry ingredients, separating the eggs, beating the whites, and folding them in at the last. 

Our family likes their waffles soft and fluffy and no toaster waffle comes out that way! It's hard to believe, but our big stainless steel waffle maker wedding gift of 46 years still works fine.  And yes, I do actually use it about twice a month!

Bob's favorite desserts are vanilla homemade ice cream or coconut cream pie with meringue.  Both time consuming, but I must admit they're delicious. 

Here's my recipe for the pie in case the photo makes you hungry and you have a little time on your hands.

Never Fail Coconut Cream Pie

1 cooked pie crust

3 T cornstarch

1 T flour

2/3 C white sugar

2 C milk

1/4 t salt

Mix these together in a heavy saucepan and bring to a boil.  While stirring, boil 1 minute.  Remove and quickly pour 1/2 of the hot mixture into 4 beaten egg yolks.

Then stir in 1 1/2 T butter and 2 t vanilla extract

Mix well and bring back to a boil for 1 minute until the custard is very thick.

Remove from heat and add 1 cup coconut and pour into baked pie shell.  Then pile on meringue.

Meringue

Beat 4 room temperature egg whites until just frothy in electric mixer and leave it setting.  Then mix these together in a saucepan.

9 T sugar

1 1/2 T cornstarch

3/4 C water

Bring this mixture to a boil until it has thickened.  Turn mixer back on and gradually add the hot mixture to the frothy egg whites.  Add 1 t vanilla or coconut flavor. Beat about 4 minutes, scraping sides of pan often. 

Then pile meringue onto the pie sealing the edge well and sprinkle about 2 T coconut on top.

Bake at 375 degrees just until coconut is browned.  Remove and cool in a draft free spot.

Hope you enjoy this too!