Suddenly homeless

Having watched as several feet of snow have fallen on our yards and roads, we can't forget the impact on wildlife.

While checking on my girls in their chicken coop the other day, something made me look up, where I saw this bird – a junco? – apparently distraught about an abundance of snow having filled it's nest.

What's a bird to do but wait for a thaw? I thought about finding a 10 foot pole with which I could knock the snow about, but nature took its course and the rain that fell last night took away every bit of this snow.

Italian Gastronomia meets American hunger

The significance behind the new photo which did head my blog but is now posted here, relates to food that my dear hubby and I would love to indulge in – but cannot, because we are clinging to a nasty four-letter word: D-I-E-T! The 17 day diet to be exact.

To begin with, it seemed like a good idea. We both need to lose weight, and the 17-day diet plan allows one to still have food -- just far more protein than carbohydrates ... and LOTS of vegetables, which fortunately I enjoy consuming.

Unfortunately, the writer of the 17-day diet book wasn't set up for the deluge of interest he received in people wishing to purchase his book. 10 days after placing my order, I learned my order had never been processed even though I paid an extra $9 for shipping. So five days before Christmas, the book finally arrived. WHO wants to begin a new diet the week of the greatest overeating of all time? GRRR.

But start the diet we did ... feasting on very large salads of romaine lettuce for lunch and fish or chicken for dinner along with such delectable vegetables as brussel sprouts and green beans!!

Like the diet suggested, I did lose 7 lbs. in three days -- but then Christmas Eve arrived along with chili soup (crackers have lots of carbs) dips served on crackers, and the holiday breads seemed to have my name on them.

Overall, neither of us has gained any weight during the holidays, but the wine consumed at a gathering of friends we hosted in our home, pretty much nullified the earlier weight loss. New Year's Day, we'll start anew.

And as for the photo, it was taken by me a few years back, in the city of Amalfi, Italy. Didn't think we could smuggle one of those ham hocks home on the plane however . . .

A Pileated Woodpecker siting along the Volga River

The other day as I trudged across the yard to begin a trek on cross-country skis, I thought I heard the laugh of the elusive Pileated Woodpecker. We have seen this bird on rare occasions in our wooded hollow where we live, but the species is people-wary.


As I heard the loud, alarming call of the bird I looked up in time to see him winging away high into the sky so I couldn't make positive identification.

But today – as I was on the phone with my mother, I looked up through our very large picture windows to see the Pileated Pillager of wood. The bird was making its way up a branch of a massive bur oak just across the fence. No question about it once I raised my camera with a telephoto lens – it was a 15-inch woodpecker. These birds make relativity large cavities in trees – and abandon them at the end of the breeding season. They are non-migratory however, and much easier to spot in winter months due to the lack of foliage.


According to Wikipedia, Pileated Woodpeckers make such large holes in dead trees that the holes can cause a small tree to break in half. The roost of a Pileated Woodpecker usually has multiple entrance holes. Pileated Woodpeckers have been observed to move to another site any eggs that have fallen out of the nest—a rare habit in birds. The cavity is unlined except for wood chips. "Both parents incubate three to five eggs for 15 or 16 days. The young may take a month to fledge.


Only known to the Eastern part of the state in Iowa, the Pileated Woody is a truly impressive and unforgettable bird. If you'd like to follow a link to a sound file for the woodpecker's laughing call, go to: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pileated_Woodpecker

Dec. 8 came & went without nary a complaint

You all are too easy on me . . .

Remember that I promised to have my sewing room clean or at least unbury the furniture enough to result in some semblance of improved organization in 30 days? That day (Dec. 8) came and went, but don't think I haven't felt GUILTY about it. (Even though not one of you harassed me about breaking my promise.)

I did rearrange the furniture. I also finished one quilt, in the past month. It was just a small Christmas-themed wall-hanging that the designer boasted could be completed in a weekend ... NOT!

Well, as Christmas nears and I continue to dust for cobwebs behind the refrigerator and amongst the rafters, my sewing room continues to beckon. It just isn't calling to me as strongly as the voices from the books & magazines that whisper, "Read me!" And admittedly, I figure I get more exercise cross-country skiing, than I do sitting in my sewing chair wondering, "Where am I going to go with all this pretty fabric?" After all, the cake balls aren't likely to last much past Dec. 26 so every lap around the yard should help somewhere.

Merry Christmas & happy holidays .... here's hoping the snow lets up long enough we can all get where we want to go!

Homemade noodles & cake balls (not served together)

It's just a week until Christmas Eve leaving us little time to prepare treats for holiday hosting.

Having the day to myself, I decided to try a couple of new things ... homemade noodles and cake balls.

While absolutely delicious and worth the effort, cake balls do require some time to dip in chocolate or almond bark. Having just read an article in the 'Accent' section of a newspaper, I tried mixing chocolate cake with coconut pecan frosting, before coating the orbs in chocolate bark flavored with coconut. Mmmm, almost as tasty as truffles!!

I've often purchased homemade noodles at bake sales & bazaars. There's nothing like them for homemade beef & noodle soup. I thought it was time I tried making my own. Using free range eggs provided by my hens, the result was a starchy noodle with a lemony color and flour dusting that was perhaps a little thick, but they'll result in a robust soup or chicken & noodle dish on a cold winter's day!

Dreaming of a White Christmas? It's here to stay

Oh the weather outside is frightful!!

Unless your idea of paradise is a minus 18 degrees on the thermometer at the time of awaking from a pleasant slumber. Brrrr! For readers in warmer climates - not only is it overly chilly in Northeast Iowa right now, but many of us are buried under more than a foot of snow. I returned home from a holiday gathering at the neighbors' house last night at 9 p.m. – and the mercury had already dropped to -10.

We could complain, or we could attempt to enjoy this winter that promises to keep the ground covered in a white blanket insulating our spring bulbs ...

Some winters my cross country skis have remained tucked into the rafters of our unfinished basement collecting dust. But not this year! Twice already I've taken the Salomons out into the yard for a little skate around the premises. Yesterday, as temps rose to 20 degrees with no wind, Lucy, Lulu and Honey joined me in the snow. Other than cold paws where ice chips form between their toes, these three siblings love the fluffy white stuff. It appears they'll need some training however, on how to either stay BEHIND the skis, or jump aboard and enjoy the ride. Silly "Honey" believed he could stroll along in my ski track in front of me, until I took him out as I gained speed down the hill.

He'll learn.

The forecast for Wednesday: Another 2-4 inches of fresh snow!! Someone must have heard Bing Crosby crooning, "I'm dreaming of a White Christmas" the other night on the american movie classics station.

While I'm away, the cats & chickens will play ...

Sometimes I wonder if maybe it isn't better to leave the house every day, so I don't know about the things that go on around our two-acre yard.

During the past week, my dearest feline "Lulu" has brought me no less than four SHREWS. Yes, thankfully, they were dead when she left them on my front doorstep. And yes, I admonished her for leaving them right where I step out the front door, but not until after I rubbed her ears and said, "Good kitty!"

I've never seen cats who love the snow like Honey, Lulu and Lucy. In fact for 10 minutes, Lulu sat in five inches of the stuff, watching a hole she'd dug – shrew-hunting, I presume.

Today, I made a quick trip to town for groceries and cat food. When I returned home, there was a chicken roosting in one of our wild plum trees, 10 ft. above ground. What the???

No amount of coaxing would convince mischievous "Clucker" to fly out of the tree. Obviously she flew up there, and she could fly out, although the "thicket" as we refer to it, is quite brambly.

As I kept an eye on Clucker, I set a bag of cat food on the front porch steps and returned to my car for the last of the groceries. When I returned, I discovered my cat, Honey, had nearly accomplished the feat of opening a 10-lb. bag of cat food. It obviously smelled tasty judging by the way he was drawn to it.

I fed the cats, and eventually, Jeff used a snow shovel to coax Clucker to fly out of the plum tree. All was right with the world for yet another day as our chickens found their way back into the coop for the night.

Morale high as holidays approach for Natl. Guard stationed in Afghanistan

(Editor's note: The following information was gleaned from a teleconference with Strawberry Point native Col. Ben Corell, who spoke with reporters from Afghanistan. Many of you may know soldiers currently stationed in that country with the Ironman Battalion or other units.

BAGRAM AIRFIELD, AFGHANISTAN – While Northeast Iowans cope with their first heavy snowfall of the winter, the men and women of the 2nd Brigade, 34th Infantry, battle sand blizzards and in some regions, austere living conditions.

That was the report from Col. Ben Corell, a Strawberry Point native who leads the 34th infantry of the Iowa Army National Guard. Following sendoff ceremonies in late July and early August, about 2,800 National Guard soldiers of the 2BCT are part of the largest call-up from Iowa, since World War II. The 2BCT includes 133rd infantry guardsmen from the National Guard unit based in Oelwein.

Col. Corell spoke to select reporters via teleconference, Monday, Dec. 6, from his office at Bagram Airfield, Parwan Province, Afghanistan.

Afghanistan still a dangerous place

"This is a very dangerous place, just like Iraq was," he said. At times you look at the mountains and think it's a beautiful site, but it's still a dangerous place."

The Iowa Guardsmen and women have been assigned to mentor Afghan police units in Kabul in addition to having responsibilities at the Afghan Training Center.

The goal is to mentor the Afghan people in how to provide their own security for their people.

He said as part of the 2BCT's efforts to neutralize the insurgency ... efforts are squarely focused on helping the Afghan people. "While development activities are flourishing, he said, "these missions aren't without risk and challenges. Our soldiers are putting in long hours, but morale remains high."

Mountains in Afghanistan

BAGRAM AIRFIELD, Afghanistan -- Mountains in Afghanistan hide in the morning haze. The high altitude of the Hindu Kush mountain range creates a harsh climate ranging from more than 100 degrees Fahrenheit in the summer to below-freezing temperatures in the winter. (U.S. Air Force photo/Senior Airman Felicia Juenke.)

Corell said some Iowa soldiers have had contact with explosive devices, although none has sustained significant injury. He said the unit's medical teams are being taught to diagnose and monitor for brain injury, because explosives have struck vehicles in which soldiers were riding, and the vehicles are not the armored Humvees used in Iraq, because roads are much poorer in Afghanistan.

Guard soldiers long for communication with home

Soldiers in the more remote areas receive mail less often than those stationed in the major ports, but Corell said efforts are being made to improve delivery.

Helicopters and small planes arrive with mail and supplies. The priority is ammunition and food, he said. 

"Sometimes the mail gets pushed down in priority but we try to get mail in there once a week. 

"Our mail rooms are full of care packages," he said. "These are a welcome reminder of everything that matters most. Thanks to all, from the letters from school kids to those sending care packages. Our mail clerks are working overtime to get the care packages out."

As for the living conditions, Corell said the goal is for two hot meals a day, even though most meals are prepared from containers.

At one site, he said water for showers and laundry is drawn from a nearby river. "Obviously drinking water is bottled," said Corell, "but they are washing their clothes in a 5 gallon bucket." Waste from the latrines, must be burned.

Even though living arrangements are crude and makeshift, Col. Corell said the main request of soldiers is for improved communication with family and friends back home.

"All they want is a little more access to phones and the internet." 

Winter's arrived in Bagram, Parwan Province

The 2BCT leader said in the past week, the weather has begun to deteriorate in Afghanistan. "Our operations range in elevation from 8,000 ft. in the mountains to below sea level. Night-time temperatures, he said, are in the upper 20s. There's no snow in Bagram, but the snow is starting to accumulate in the higher elevations.

Asked to compare life in Afghanistan with that of a previous mission to Iraq, Corell said the obvious lack of infrastructure stands out in Afghanistan. "There are a lot of trails here that don't support the machines we use." Blacktops don't exist in most areas. "We're much closer to the population than in Iraq, and the population is more rural, or small town."

Corell concluded advising, "It's important for the people of Iowa to think about us and our families. I pray every night we continue to do everything right. But this is a dangerous place and there are a lot of challenges. I hope we continue to do well. 

"There's a lot of sacrifice going on," he said.

We were rockin' with The Judds Sunday night

One of the positive facets of being retired is choosing activities on a whim.

Friday afternoon, my dearest of 20 years left a card on the countertop declaring, "Happy Birthday." Since that day is still some weeks away, I questioned his lucidity, but indeed, he intended to give me the card.

Inside, there was a note announcing we had tickets to Sunday's "Judds, the Final Encore" tour in Moline, Ill.!!! 

Sunday, we drove to the iWireless center in the Quad Cities on the banks of the majestic Mississippi River to catch the three-hour show of those two outspoken, harmonizing redheads. 

Dressed in a comfortable bell-bottomed black Lycra Spandex top and slacks which accentuated her recent weight loss, Wy topped it off with a cutaway below the hip length sparkling sequin jacket. Glitter shimmered from her hair and face.

Although Wynonna stumbled several times remembering the words to her older songs, she recovered well, claiming to be distracted by a handsome man at the front of the stage. Mama Naomi actually handed over the microphone to the man who did remember the lyrics and had an impressive voice to boot. This seemed to distract Wynonna even further. In fact, she later teased, 'why don't you just go sit down and listen? God gave you two ears and one mouth!'

Wy's characteristic lip curl was as evident as ever as she sang Elvis Presley's, "Burnin' Love." And daughter teased her mother, who preferred hand-holding with fans over standing at her daughter's side providing harmony. When a shout from the crowd proclaimed, "I want your autograph!" Wy suggested the fan stop by Naomi's bus after the concert, adding, "We've got a concert to do, right now." And Naomi invited, "I'll make you a little snack."

Wynonna's wit was met with laughter and applause when she explained, "While mama's away, daughter will play," and Naomi changed into yet another of her gorgeous sequined dresses. (Mama had no less than four costume changes.) In the meantime, Wy wowed the audience with the rockin' "No One Else on Earth." Later, with a stained glass window backdrop, she sang "How Great Thou Art," to a hushed audience hanging on every word performed with a four-man gospel back-up.

The Judds closed with "Love Can Build a Bridge," but then returned for a 3-song encore that included, "Ave Maria," and "Silent Night."

Just call me the chicken whisperer

As I stepped on to my deck Sunday morning to feed the felines, I was met by a hungry Americauna chicken "ca-bock-bocking" her way to my feet. This was odd because no one had yet opened the door to the chicken coop. The pretty bird spent the night partying atop her chicken house where she apparently roosted, because she'd left a number of "presents" behind that I discovered when I went to see what was up.

The gatekeeper obviously didn't count heads the night before. In his haste, he stood at the door to the coop anxious to lock the door, even when I knocked on the window and informed him there was still one chicken eating like it was the last meal she'd have, under the bird feeder.

Such antics of being left outside the coop, wouldn't typically pose a problem except that the girls needed to be left locked up all day as we would be away from home at the time they'd want to return to roost (approx. 4:35 p.m. these days.) We couldn't open the door to let Clucker in, because the seven other chickens would make a mad dash for the door, desiring freedom for the day.

While I was inside the house otherwise occupied, the Obviously Not A Farmer male of the household chased the loose chicken with his pond net.  Of course this only disturbed Clucker all the more and by this time, she could hardly be lured to the coop, with food. 

That's when I hatched a plan. A favorite food of our girls, is ramen noodles. (No, I DON'T add the seasoning packet.) So I prepared a package .... lured Clucker to the door of the coop dropping a noodle or two along the way ... and then posted Not a Farmer husband at a short distance from the door. Meanwhile, I ran to the end of the chicken run and dropped noodles to the ground through their roof, enticing the other seven away from the door. Not A Farmer slid open the door and after a quick look or two, Clucker didn't have to be told twice, she jumped back into the coop to join her pals.

No Black Friday deals here

After we feasted on turkey Thursday, I had no cause to stress the impending rush of  Black Friday, this year. That's because even if I had been tempted to shop the malls for purported deals, I couldn't plot out a plan with no information.

It's one of those disadvantages of living in the sticks. Even though we have rural mail delivery, I didn't receive my daily newspaper chock full of 150-pages of inserts designed to coax me into those stores. It's a shame those advertisers throw away good money on printing and then mailing those flyers - to people like me who then received them in my mailbox around 3 p.m., SATURDAY. Living an hour from any shopping mall, there was little benefit to me, at that point. All those pretty, slick flyers will simply become kindling or will wind up lining the bottom of the chicken coop. 

I've never understood why so many stores wait to mail what could be valuable information – ON the holiday.

Alison's journey begins today

Late this afternoon we got the news we have been waiting to hear for a couple of weeks now ... my family's niece, daughter, granddaughter and cousin, Alison, who has battled cystic fibrosis since birth, has been accepted as a candidate for a double lung transplant at University Hospitals & Clinics, Iowa City!!!

For anyone unfamiliar with cystic fibrosis, it is a genetic disorder affecting 30,000 people in the U.S.  It causes the body to produce an abnormally thick, sticky mucus, due to the faulty movement of sodium and chloride (salt) within cells lining organs like the lungs and pancreas. The abnormal mucus then clogs the lungs and leads to life-threatening lung infections.

There are about 1,000 new cases of CF diagnosed each  year.  Most are diagnosed by age three. One in 31 Americans - more than 10 million people are unknowing, symptomless carriers of one copy of the defective CF gene. An individual must inherit two defective copies of the CF gene to have cystic fibrosis.

Alison's  lung capacity deteriorated a great deal over the last year and her most recent hospitalization in October, resulted in the recommendation for a double lung transplant. While this is very serious surgery and it is not without risks, we share in Alison's anticipation that when donor lungs become available to her, it will allow her to leave her oxygen tank behind. She looks forward to walking down the aisle at her friend's wedding next summer, on the arm of a young man, feeling healthy and happy like the rest of her 23 and 24-year old friends.

Please keep Alison and her parents, Scott & Joleen, in your thoughts and prayers as they begin this journey! Watch the blog for updates as they become available.

I've got an app for that ...

No need to lament the fact that hubby Jeff and I are no longer in the newspaper business ... friends and family can keep up with our busy lives through our blogs. No, my partner in retirement hasn't gotten his personal site established quite yet, but I'm pretty sure I can be enough of a thorn in his side until he gets it accomplished! His will relate to his real estate business, of course, and so he's being a little fussy about the details.

We've had several people ask, "What are you doing with your lives, now?" Be assured, there's no moss growing under my feet! Several have inquired about plans for travel since our past has included tours of Italy, Greece, Ireland, Costa Rica and other locales. The current photo in my header is from the Vatican at Rome, Italy.

But for now, we have no plans for travel beyond the three hour drive to Madison to visit family. Oh, the inspiration is there to move beyond Iowa's borders ... but for now, it's too tough to commit to just one place. Stay tuned.

We call her Clucker for a reason

Sometimes keeping chickens around the farm, is akin to raising children.

There are those that are well-behaved, and those who are a bit ill-mannered. Although personalities and temperament aren't always immediately obvious, we dubbed one of our laying hens, "Clucker," because she always has something to talk about.

Clucker is just one of those birds that wants the world to be all about her. She knows that the older, wiser hen, "Blackbird"'s favorite nesting spot is an out-of-the way location under a pile of branches in our woodpile. And for that reason, Clucker takes joy in aggravating Blackbird by just hanging out there.

This results in a great deal of chaos in the yard, because Blackbird is very fussy about where she lays her jumbo-sized brown eggs. In particular, she prefers to not use the nesting boxes prepared for her in the chicken coop.

One night in August, as the girls were making their way to the roost for the night, my husband did a headcount and realized one chicken was missing. Notifying me (for some reason I have been designated the one to locate chickens gone astray) I climbed through the fence into our neighbors' pasture. A few minutes later, I nearly stepped on Clucker where she sat on a nest of about 10 eggs. By this time, it was dusk, and so I yelled for the hubby to chase the chicken into the coop for the night while I picked her eggs off the nest so she wouldn't return there the next day.

For the next few weeks, we occasionally found small nests of eggs in brushy areas around our property. But as the weeks became months, the number of eggs retrieved from the nests inside the coop dwindled to about two or three per day.

Clucker was immediately suspect of holding out on us. Especially after the day I heard her cackling and carrying on at quite a distance from our house. Again, I walked into the pasture, and eventually found she had crossed the neighbors' driveway and was hanging out under a cedar tree. I can't catch Clucker so all I could do was scold her and hope she'd return home. She did.

Two or three weeks later, it was time to count chicken heads perched on the roost as we locked the girls up one night – and there were again just seven birds instead of eight. However, on this night, it was already dark and I wasn't feeling much like beaming a flashlight into bushes and crevices only to surprise a skunk. A second night, our stray chicken didn't return to the coop and stayed in the woods all night.

On the third day, Clucker returned to the yard to eat layer feed but again disappeared. Deciding not to wait for darkness I, the designated search party of one, struck out on foot for the neighbors' driveway. I went to the spot where I had found Clucker carrying on some weeks before, and there she was, determined to be broody on a nest of eggs that were never in a million years going to hatch into chicks. (We don't have any roosters on the place.)

As I reached into the weeds, she jumped from the nest to reveal 14 blue-green eggs whose shells had now been stained by the oak leaves she'd been nesting upon. 

I started filling my coat pockets with eggs. Surprisingly, I managed to get 14 eggs in the pockets of my wool coat, tucking a few more into the front pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. 

As for Clucker, if she were a child, she'd be punished. But being a chicken with a very small brain, that complicates matters. But late this afternoon, I found her in the henhouse, laying an egg in the nest designated for such activity. 

Hope for improved behavior? The photo shows our oldest hen, Daphne, checking out 12 of Clucker's 14 eggs she was holding hostage on the neighbors' property. 

Wine tasting & roasting my first bird

Last weekend, the hubby and I decided since we did mark 20 years of marriage, maybe we could celebrate with a little more fanfare than just pancakes. Saturday night, we drove to New Hampton, IA. where we joined a group of sorority sisters in a fundraiser for scholarships.

For $25 we were able to sample eight wines and eight brews, plus cleanse our palates with absolutely stellar hors d'oeuvres. And I do mean stellar. From the flaky pastry filled with brie, to the bruschetta and sushi and a plethora of breads on which we could drizzle spice-infused oils – it was a night to toast health and happiness.

The only people we knew were our friends, the Tuppers, but we met an interesting gal who raises mink. Would love to know more about that vocation.

(Lulu is modeling the scarf that I recently finished knitting – another item off the 'to do' list!)

Having finished a couple of things off the 'to do' list last week, I decided it was time to try something new.

Roasting a chicken.

No, not a live chicken, nor did I have to raid the henhouse for a bird. We happened to have a shrink-wrapped hunk of poultry in the freezer that I figured would do nicely.

While preparing the bird for the oven I couldn't help but remember that our typical Sunday dinners as a child growing up near Hawkeye, consisted of roasted chicken served with noodles au gratin – the topping being a layer of Saltine cracker crumbs soaked in butter. Mmmmmmm. 

Just this minute, I removed the chicken for a quick baste of cooked juices, and hope that I have prepared it well enough that it will be savory and not dry. Admittedly, it's a little distracting that as I pen this blog, there's an image of two of my pet chickens on the screen saver behind me. Hopefully Daphne and Delilah don't mind. 

An unusual anniversary celebration

This week marked the 20th anniversary since my bridegroom and I exchanged rings and said 'I promise to love you for better or worse, through sickness and health, until death when we part."

To celebrate, there was no candlelight or romantic dinner, nor did we even share a bottle of wine.

Instead, we feasted on sausage and pancakes soaked in huckleberry syrup, at the church where we were married 20 years earlier on a sunny, but breezy, 45-degree day Nov. 10, 1990.

Perhaps not the most idyllic setting for a 20-year anniversary party. But I would have to say the church is still as charming as it was back then when we became at least the third, if not the fourth generation of my family to be joined in wedded bliss at St. Peter Lutheran.

What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. 

~ by Ralph Waldo Emerson ~

Ya gotta love this November weather!

Northeast Iowa's autumn will probably be recorded as one of the best in history: for example, the temperature Sunday, Nov. 6, soared above 60 degrees in our Frog Hollow yard. Similar temperatures followed Monday through Wednesday. In November!! Typically this time of year, we can expect anything from a high of 36 to maybe a day or two of 52 degrees.

For gardeners like myself, it was a godsend to have the temperatures continue to hover around the 55 or 60 degree mark. I then found time to plant two dozen cloves of garlic, which I dutifully covered with fertilizer from my chickens' coop, along with the required mulch of newspapers and grass clippings.

But perhaps sweetest of all are those tomatoes that were late bloomers this year due to plentiful rainfall in the summer months. Because of all the rain, insects often got to the tomatoes before I did, thwarting my intention to preserve 20 or more quarts of "tomato cocktail," a sort of homemade V8 juice. But as September arrived and our night-time temperatures dropped below 30 degrees, I couldn't bear to just leave 50 green tomatoes – an heirloom variety known as Cherokee Purple – to rot.

I plucked the green orbs from their vines, wrapped them in newspaper, and carefully packed each into a cardboard box. Last week, I had enough ripe, red heirloom fruits to preserve a little more than 2 qts. of tomato cocktail, its spicy liquid promising a delectable meal of chili on a cold day in January. With the tomatoes that ripen only one or two at a time, the hubby and I are indulging in BLT sandwiches with lettuce – particularly kale – we're still able to harvest from the garden.

So even though snow showers are forecast for this weekend, several shelves in the basement hold tomato juice for chili, spaghetti sauce for a meal in a jiffy, peach salsa for snacking, and peach preserves for a pie in case company stops by.

Is there life after retirement?

It's been exactly 39 days since I officially retired from a career of weekly newspaper publishing. No more being on call to run to photograph a barn burning down somewhere in the boondocks at 1 a.m., or having to split my time on a Monday night covering a city council meeting at 5:30, followed by a school board meeting at 7 – and having to then write a report from both before retiring for the night as Tuesday morning's deadline time always seemed to arrive sooner than desired.

Admittedly, it's taken every one of those 39 days to adjust to a new routine.

I didn't walk away and begin a month-long vacation, and I still covered a couple of meetings in October.  Admittedly, I feared symptoms of withdrawal had I cut myself off completely from the "never-a-dull-moment" world of journalism. Transitioning slowly to a world of fewer deadlines and more freedom was my plan.

How's that working out for me, as Dr. Phil might ask?

Enjoying being busy and always having a 'to do' list I recognized, I still need structure. I am 48, and for 28 of those years, I worked full-time with the exception of a three-month period when I transitioned from working for someone else, to becoming editor/publisher of my own newspapers. During those first nine years, I rarely took a vacation. Even my honeymoon was just an extended weekend.

Six weeks after announcing retirement, I now have a short list of personal accomplishments that have led to a much improved sense of well-being:

• I finished the book I was reading and am now 420 pages into one of Oprah's book club picks.

• At least seven or eight bags/boxes of items I no longer needed were donated to Goodwill

• I began walking/jogging and lost 10 pounds

• I finished a quilt I was able to donate to a charity auction

• I've washed 14 windows inside and out – just a few more to go!

• I varnished the sills of several windows where rain soaked the wood because a window was left open while I was at work.

• The guest bed finally has a bed skirt on the bottom to hide the box springs – even though I spent a half hour ironing the darn thing so it would hang nicely!

What I've not yet been able to accomplish is the organization of my sewing room. (See photo.) Believe me, it took a lot of courage to share just how cluttered this room has become. But by doing so, I'm hoping to shame myself enough to effect change. The goal: 30 days from now post another photo revealing an organized sewing area!! 

Hmmmm. That's just 30 days from now .... December 8 ..... and I've got Christmas shopping to do, floors to sweep and vacuum and chickens to chase after all day ....

Ambushed!

Fortunately my tomcat, "Honey," didn't lose interest in his capture of this mouse while I ran to the garage to retrieve my camera from my car. Why is it that domesticated cats must taunt and tease their prey before consuming?

I had to get a photo because I'd never seen a mouse show such valor. The rodent jumped, it squeaked, it screamed and bared it's ugly little teeth. But Honey, of course, just grinned, knowing who would win this battle.

A new beginning

For those familiar with my ramblings in my previous life as the publisher of three weekly newspapers, you'll find this blog to be a continuation of some of my thoughts, but with some new additions.

If you're new to my rantings and observations about the world around me, all you need to know is that I reside in a mostly sleepy hollow near the center of Fayette County, Iowa where the silence is most often broken by the howl of a lone coyote (or a pack running wildly along the Volga River) or perhaps the chirping from spring peepers and croaking bull frogs in early summer.

More specifically, in our yard, there's often a "wauccckkkkkkk- wauk-wauk" from our favorite hen, "Dot," who is fond of sticking her beak into anything we might happen to be up to. Dot and our seven other hens typically provide the majority of amusement at the Bradley ranch – particularly when they interact with our three felines: Honey, Louie (now Lulu since we determined 'he' is really a 'she') and a sweet calico named, "Lucy."

Just this morning, after I threw a handful of sunflower seeds in the direction of a hen named "Daphne," I watched as Lulu peered at the seeds trying to determine if it could be something she'd like to sample. The chicken, preferring to keep all the sunflowers to herself, gave poor, innocent Lulu a sharp peck on her nose. Offended by the unfriendly gesture, Lulu gave Daphne a look of disgust and ambled off for a nap under the porch.

And now for my advice of the week: If you missed the St. Peter Lutheran Church Haunted Hayride Sunday night, Oct. 31, don't make the mistake of missing it again next year!! It was a fabulous production that impressed everyone who visited the community of 100 that night. At every turn, there was yet another member of the community, or someone with ties to the town, portraying a character or ghoul. As a narrator spoke of Eli Elrod and how the pioneer still haunts the community, spooky tunes including Michael Jackson's 'Thriller' were piped at high volume across the church yard, echoing between houses.

These three characters are my cousin, Amy; my Aunt Irene and my mother, Mary. They are pictured in the church yard in front of a graveyard created by Wendy Stahr, Jill Richards and Kristi Meitner. Inside the schoolhouse, folks entered the Mad Scientist's laboratory.

And this lovely corpse, laid inside a real casket playing the role of a corpse. On occasion, she reached out to touch those brave enough to jest that she might be anything less than the real thing.