Fall is Upon Us

Perhaps I am a bear, or some hibernating animal underneath, for the instinct to be half asleep all winter is so strong in me.
-Anne Morrow Lindbergh

The weather has crossed the line, a demarkation point when summer is truly behind us and winter just around the bend.

We best be done with our garden clean up. There will be Indian summer days interspersed here and there but warm weather cannot be depended upon for anything this day forward.

Fall is my favorite time of year. I love the crisp air and the smell of burning leaves and woodsmoke bring childhood memories flooding back. We'd construct great piles of leaves and jump off the end of the porch into the center, the crunch of papery leaves being crushed under our weight. The leaves would then be moved to the curb and set on fire. Heavens... it's outlawed today in the area where we grew up. It's hard to find a thing anymore that doesn't spell doom to our planet, according to the experts.



Perhaps I'll construct a little ring of stones in the back forty and place the most beautiful orange and gold oak leaves in the center, lighting it up as an offering to things that once were, and are no longer.

Another year has passed, another season gone. The trick in life is to stay excited about what is around the next corner.

Unlike Anne Morrow Lindbergh, I don't feel the instinct to be half asleep in winter but I do love to hibernate. I can literally go long stretches without ever feeling the need to leave the warmth and protection of my home. I love to tackle tasks that have been neglected during the warm months. Only in late January or February will cabin fever set in and we'll all be grousing at each other, anxious to get outside and start the cycle all over again.

Monday Morning Staff Meeting

You'll simply have to imagine the wonderful cake I'm serving this morning because not one, not two, THREE of my cameras are now broken. That's right. The battery compartment doors on two of the cameras are broken. How does any engineer think that a small plastic clip is going to perform well as a latch? My big, expensive digital has developed a ghost in the machine which records the information to the memory card and won't let you retrieve that information. Give me low tech anytime!

Perhaps you wouldn't mind a slice of two year old cannoli cake. It looks delicious and fresh. Here, try some.



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I received my liquid chalk marker in the mail and I love it! This makes using my chalkboard a pleasure. No dust, no screeching of chalk as it drags across the surface. The lines are crisp and clean. Think of those cool menu boards in restaurants and that's hwat it looks like. As soon as a camera repaired (or a new camera), I'll post pictures.

Mine is an earth-toned green. It's nice but a little difficult to read on a black background. Next time I'll order something brighter. This was $3.50, which seems pricey, but it's a large barrel and should go a long way.

I highly recommend this product. It has me wanting to paint a small wall in chalkboard paint.

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Our old friend Clara is up to new tricks.

GREAT DEPRESSION COOKING WITH CLARA

She's making baked apples and her blog states that she's on Twitter.

I seriously doubt that Clara is Twittering. Her grandson is producing the videos and blog entries which are updated on Twitter.

You can only teach an old dog so many new tricks. I know that for sure!

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I'm marking the time and path of the International Space Station for each day that it's viewable from my area. I watch the time and move my chair to line up with it's movements across the night sky. It never takes more than 4 minutes to pass overhead but I linger and enjoy the time outside in the cool night air.

Are you tracking it too?

INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION SIGHTING OPPORTUNITIES

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It has turned cold here in Northern Illinois. The frost is on the pumpkin, as we say. I'm going to take a hot bath and try to warm up. I've been out of my sewing room for several days and projects are calling my name.

Everyone have a great day! Let me know what you've been up to. Sometimes, everyone else's lives seem more interesting than our own!

Digging On

The dig continues. We seem to have informally broken up into teams. No one said, "You partner with this person," it just happened. I'm working with graduate student Bill.

I cannot overestimate his skill and knowledge. He's been going on digs for over 7 years.



After removing a layer of dirt with a shovel, Bill starts troweling the excavation. His tools look like something you'd find in the garage, perhaps to spread drywall compound. His trowels are sharp and he makes this process look deceptively simple.



He gave me a trowel and I went to work. It's actually difficult to get the technique down. I can only compare it with shaving a hugh block of chocolate. Thin layers are shaved off, possibly revealing artifacts buried in the soil.



What troweling also reveals are features. They are the footprints of structures or other things that would have disturbed the soil. Here's a picture of our excavation showing the beautiful trowel work that makes the walls and floors appear to be polished surfaces.

Here's the plow zone layer, the undisturbed soil underneath and the feature. Most likely this was a fence post, based on the shape.



Helen works the screen.



It's a beautiful setting to work in. This place is very quiet, in fact you can hear birds or small animals moving through the brush. Very few vehicles travel the gravel road. The beautiful historic barns are nearby.

Stripping off more sod to start the next hole.



The digging continues. The work should become easier as we work towards the site of the tavern. This soil is heavily compacted from the oxen and farm machinery.

Thanks for coming along on the dig!

Field Trip - Digging Archaeology

Come with me! We're going to dig in the dirt.

This is a continuing projecct and this year's focus is on locating the well that was in front of the log tavern.



The archaeologist has already determined and marked off the areas where we'll be digging. Sod is carefully removed and the pit is divided into two halves. Each are dug separately and processed separately on the screening tables.



Jim and Helen processes material.

The soil is deposited on the solid end of the table. See that block of wood? I used it like a rolling pin pushing dough. Instead of rolling I would apply forward pressure, breaking up the large clods.



The soil is moved to the screen side of the table where the finer material falls to the ground, leaving small pebbles and artifacts.

Graduate archaeology student Bill was able to participate in this dig. He has tons of field experience so his help is invaluable. Translation - He knows what he's doing and moves the work along smoothly.



Bill is in the pit troweling, shaving small layers of dirt, revealing small artifacts.

This is a beautiful scene. Bill is processing the soil in the old farm lane with a vintage tractor in the background.



Bill and Jim identify a small ceramic piece as having been the delicate foot on a teacup.



At the end of the day, everyone gathers around to discuss what we've found and process the last bucket.



We processed about five times this much dirt.



This seems to be a young person's endeavor, meaning it's hard physical work that's 90% sweat, 9% anticipation and 1% eureka.

Each of the four processing tables contained a small plastic container in which we placed artifacts. This is one of the four and is representative of what we found.



This seems like a ridiculously small amount of material, but we are at the edge of the site and this area has been plowed many times.

It is an interesting process and actually much more complicated than I've been able to explain here. Jim and Bill seriously know what they're doing and were very patient with all my questions. I worked will Bill and warned him that I'd bombard him regularly. I'm curious as to the order we're working in and what their goals are.

This dig continues until October 9th (or later if the weather doesn't cooperate). If you are in the area and are interested in helping out, e-mail me and I'll give you the information.

Thanks for coming along on the dig!

P.S. I showed myself to be a stinking newbie when I showed up with NO water and NO gloves!

Opportunity Lost, Opportunity Found

One of the items on my bucket list is to go on an archaeological dig. I've always felt disappointed in myself that I didn't finish my anthropology degree. Heck, I didn't even come close to finishing. There were big roadblocks. I had no money and although I was perfectly capable I'd underachieved in high school, just enough to make me ineligible for the scant amount of scholarships that were available at the time (and rarer loans). Remember, we're talking the dark ages here.

Fast forward thirty years when I find myself taking another anthropology class, just out of interest this time. At fifty-something years old I wasn't about to re-enter college and even if that thought had entered my mind, my resources were otherwise occupied.

The class was great. I enjoyed the writing that was involved and according to the professor, I excelled. That's not hard to do when you're sitting in a class of young kids who aren't taking anything seriously, least of all the work involved. I was attacking it with a vengeance born of lost opportunity. The kids in the class were tolerating it, unaware of how stinking lucky they were to have the opportunity to get an education.

The semester was over and I was happy to receive an A. To my surprise the professor e-mailed me and offered me a position on a dig team that would be working in Sicily that summer.

"WHAT??? Me?? Archaeological dig in SICILY??"

Talk about exciting. THAT was exciting. It doesn't matter that "working on a dig team in Sicily" was secret code for, "We need an able-bodied, enthusiastic slave for six weeks who's willing to pay their own way."

The Farmer laughed. "HA. You can't do that."

I was sad.

He was right.

There was the little matter of my job. I frantically thought of ways that I could pitch this to the publisher.

"Mark, I could write a first person journal type account of my adventure and you could publish the entries as a human interest story in the newspaper. 'Local mom digs at important indigenous third Bronze Age town.' Don't you see how interesting that would be?"

There was a problem. I didn't write human interest stories for the newspaper. I wrote advertorial and sold advertising. That wasn't the deal killer though. I couldn't dig in Sicily because my own children were now in college and I was responsible for pay rents, tuition and wildly expensive textbooks.

I my mind I envisioned the Soup Nazi yelling, "NO SICILY FOR YOU".

There was no Sicily for me. I quickly descended from the clouds of possibility to the realities of life. The Farmer compensated by planning vacations to Central American spots where we could climb Mayan temples and gaze at ruins.

Another dig opportunity has presented itself and it's much closer to home. It doesn't involve a crash course in Italian, just a short 8 mile drive to Garfield Farm in La Fox, Illinois. Starting today they'll be digging at the location of the original log cabin tavern. The cellar will be excavated to determine the contents.

I've volunteered to be an unpaid slave, not so able-bodied but enthusiastic nonetheless.

Another cup of coffee, some comfortable shoes and I'm off to my "opportunity found".

To This Place....

To this place, I owe everything. - Abraham Lincoln

Abraham Lincoln spoke those words about Illinois. This is the place where he was forged into the person who became president.

Last weekend neighbor Betty (the Queen Bee) reminded me that I'd forgotten to post on Saturday.

"I need something to read in the morning, I missed your daily post," she gently teased.

Sometimes I just lose steam. Before there were blogs, there were forums and I posted a daily quote for over six years on a gardener's forum. I love quotes, I collect them. To read a quote in the morning is like kick starting your brain for the day, it gives you something to think about.


Breathe deep the gathering gloom. - the Moody Blues

You might be surprised by the fact that this is one of my favorite quotes. It speaks to something that I learned in therapy. If some bad things are rolling down the hill in your direction, you need to quickly get past denial. It's coming and to deny is to delay your response, your defense and whatever inner resources you might need to deal with the challenge.


"How many leaves fall in wood, or perish from the hill without the privilege to know that they are beautiful?" - Emily Dickinson

My goodness that woman had a way with words. Think about this quote in the following context, some people fall between the cracks and their inner beauty is never recognized.

Love seems the swiftest, but it is the slowest of all growths. No man or woman really knows what perfect love is until they have been married a quarter of a century.
- Mark Twain, Notebook, 1894

I've always loved Mark Twain since the first reading of Huckleberry Finn when I was a kid. His wit, wisdom and smart aleck nature suit me perfectly.

Tell me, do you have a favorite quote? Writer? Someone who never disappoints?

Monday Morning Staff Meeting

Last week I was totallly out of it, as evidenced by the fact that I totally forgot about our Monday Morning Staff Meeting.

Thirkellgirl had shown up bright and early with cupcakes frosted with chocolate buttercream and what did she find. Nothing....nada....zip. I was missing in action. That just tells you my state of mind.

This morning we are keeping it simple, we're having grapes.



They're yummy. Have some. If there are any left over we're going to make Heidi crush them with her feet and we're going to attempt to make wine.

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For those of you in northern Illinois, there are lots of events next weekend.

The Boone County Conservation District and Heritage Gardens are hosting their annual Autumn Pioneer Festival. This is a great festival, don't miss it!


AUTUMN PIONEER FESTIVAL
Saturday, Sept. 26 - 9 a.m.-5 p.m.
Sunday, Sept. 27 - 10 a.m.-4 p.m.
Admission Free - Donations gladly accepted.

Interpreters in period clothing will be demonstrating activities such as flint knapping, woodworking, basket making, and soap making. The two historic log cabins and five ethnic gardens on the grounds will be open for viewing.

Pioneer fries, prairie chicken, popcorn, jerky, fry bread and other items will be available for purchase.

This is a chance to see the reproduction of a Potawatomie wigwam.

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On the same dates in nearby Rockford, Illinois, Midway Village Museum will be hosting their World War II Days event.

WORLD WAR II DAYS
Saturday, Sept. 26 - 11 a.m.-5 p.m.
Sunday, Sept. 26 - 11 a.m.-4 p.m.

This even gives a look inside the history of World War II, including period vehicles, tents, tanks, artillery, armored vehicles and artifacts. The Farmer and I have encountered these WWII re-enactors before and they are fascinating and well-versed in their knowledge of the history of the area.

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For those of you wanting to get a jump on the season there will be a Oktoberfest celebration at the Kane County Fairgrounds, also taking place next weekend.

KANE COUNTY OKTOBERFEST
Friday, Sept. 25 - 5 p.m.-Midnight
Saturday, Sept. 26 - 11 a.m.-Midnight
Sunday, Sept. 27 - 11 a.m.-10 p.m.

Admission $7 - Kids 12 and under free.

Schnitzel Platz is providing the food and it will all be under a huge tent!

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For those of you who are not in northern Illinois, I WISH YOU WERE HERE! We'd visit all three events and have a great time.

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Thanks so much for all your good thoughts about our recent yellow jacket drama. It was apparent to us, after the fact, that any number of things could have gone terribly wrong. The Other Mother was out there poking around in her garden earlier and in week. If she'd accidentally gotten near the nest we would have certainly had a tragedy on our hands. The area is off limits. We've done an initial spraying with a product that shoots out 20 feet, allowing you to spray without the need to get close to the nest.

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I'd love to know if any of you are planning to make Christmas gifts this year. I try to include handmade items in my gift giving and what I can't make myself, I purchase from artisans at ETSY.

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Thanks for attending the Monday Morning Staff Meeting. I'd love to hear what you've been up to.

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Danger, Danger Will Robinson!

We never expected the drama that the Farmer would find himself in yesterday, but our story will serve as a warning to those of you who work outside in the fall.

Years ago we planted some Scotch Pines along the eastern edge of our property, to serve as a barrier to the roadway. The trees grew very fast and we were happy with the buffer that they provided against the sound of any road traffic. Unfortunately they were attacked a couple years ago by something called Zimmerman Pine Moth.

When we noticed that one of the trees was obviously dying, we called a tree guy into to take a look. To our dismay we found that by the time you notice something is wrong, it's too late. The trees died, like dominoes they fell to the destruction. Luckily the tree man was able to save one lone tree on the end of the row.

They stood on the edge of the road, now the color of shiny copper pennies. I envisioned them being set ablaze by a lightning strike. Not only were they a blight to the eye, they were appearing quite dangerous to me. They needed to be taken down but I was not comfortable with the thought of the Farmer attacking them with a chain saw. We called the tree guy back to cut them down and grind the stumps. This turned out to be quite expensive, but it needed to be done. The removal of the trees left large holes in the ground and piles of dirt around the edges.

Yesterday, at my suggestion, the Farmer trudged out to the roadway to tackle the job. The first hole was back filled and he started on the second. I visited him at his job site and joked I should get him a Bobcat for his birthday. I walked back to the house and worked in my studio.

Thirty minutes later I hear him in the house, screaming something at the top of his lungs. Clearly there was something terribly wrong.

He had been working at the site where the second tree had been removed, loosening up the dirt at the edges and tossing int back in the hole. His foot rested on the spade and he gave it a push with his weight. He lifted the dirt, turned and it fell from the shovel into the hole. At this point he turned back to a sight that his eyes and brain could not comprehend. Rising from the ground in the spot he'd just placed his shovel, was a dark column shooting up from the soil. What could that possibly be? His mind raced and soon they were upon him..........

YELLOW JACKETS!!!!!

Thousands of them swarmed, an angry dangerous mob attacked. Down went the shovel and off in a flash went the Farmer, trying to put as much space between him and the yellow jacket mob. He stumbled and caught himself but lost his eyeglasses as he lurched across the grass. The yellow jackets were literally attaching themselves to his clothing and unbeknownst to him, they can sting more than once.

As he ran into the garage he wildly shed clothing, leaving a trail as he fled into the relative safety of the kitchen. That's when he started screaming, "Get the dogs out..... get the dogs out of here".

The poor doggies (only 6 pounds each) were in danger of being stung. Upstairs in my studio I had no idea of the drama unfolding in my kitchen. I ran down to find the Farmer hopping around in his underwear, the dogs yelping and at least thirty angry yellow jackets dive bombing all of us.

Our son grabbed the dogs and hid them in the office. We went to work spray and smashing the villains, getting stung in the process. Our son quickly shifted into his nursing student mode, checking the Farmer for sign of shock.

"Does your throat fell constricted? Is your tongue swelling?" Luckily, we were all fine, including the dogs. We were left to deal with very painful bites. The situation could have been so much worse, deadly in fact.

My mind raced to remember all the you-can-survive-anything TV shows I'd watched over the years. I can't remember what you should do in this situation. Running is the only think I can think of but had the Farmer actually fallen when he stumbled, the outcome would have been quite different.

I did some research on the web to find that it's yellow jackets that make their nests in the ground. Fall is the most dangerous time because those nests have grown to huge proportions and the insects become very aggressive.

Please be careful if you're digging in the dirt in the fall. You might just come upon more than you bargained for.

Murder Most Foul

Recently someone asked me to tell some stories from the time I worked at the newspaper. I always told the publisher, who was the best boss ever, that if a TV producer brought cameras into the place it could be the most popular reality show ever!

Newspaper had a mystique that I fear is disappearing. Someone actually yelled, "I'm going to publish", to which we responded, "Publish!", meaning that we had finalized everything we were working.

Back in the pressroom the huge Goss press would run at full speed and was a wonderful sight to witness. The pressmen would sometimes catch glaring errors and they would actually stop the presses. I always wanted to run back there and yell "Stop the presses!".

If you've seen the Spiderman movies then you've experienced our publisher, a larger than life character, overflowing with confidence and knowledge, barking orders and generally making the place what you'd expect a busy newspaper to be. Have I mentioned that he was the best boss ever?

The problem with working at a small town newspaper is that you probably know everyone involved in a news story. The reporters worked the evening shift, finishing stories and covering late breaking news before putting the paper to bed. One morning I arrived, grabbed my copy of the paper only to find the front page story was about a late evening car accident that took the life of my friend's youngest daughter. I rushed up to the newsroom to get the details because not everything is published.

There was a police scanner in the newsroom and someone would monitor the calls. One day a couple of reporters fly out of the building after hearing a report about a woman driving her car off a bridge. At this point I was thrust into the role of being a "source" because I knew both the woman driving the car and her daughter, who was a passenger.

I was in a complete state of shock when the police reporter revealed the identity of the woman and the circumstances. It was Betty Whitten and she'd stabbed her daughter with a kitchen knife, put her daughter into the family car and driven it off a bridge, landing on a concrete pad just short of the riverbank.

To say I was in shock at this news would be a gross understatement. Stabbed her daughter? Surely they were mistaken.

As details emerged I told the young reporter that if she researched the story well and put the facts together she could have a best selling book. The story is strange and compelling.

I'd known Betty for years, she was a customer when I managed the fabric department of a local store. Her daughter Kiki was mentally and physically disabled, having lived her entire life confined to a wheel chair. I could not think of a single time when I saw Betty without KiKi. She was her sole caregiver for 34 years! Kiki was always perfectly groomed and I often wondered how difficult it must have been to life her from a wheelchair into the car or bed or anywhere! Betty was a tiny woman, probably 100 lbs soaking wet.

Nothing made sense to me. Here was a woman who clearly cared for her daughter. I told the reporter that Betty was involved in the community and organized the local Snugs for Hugs event where people would gather to knit and crochet hats and scarves for those in need. She was always giving to others, both her talent and her time.

I joined a chorus of people in disbelief at the news.

Details emerged. She'd been depressed and had sunk so far that she was hearing voices. Believe me, I understand deep depression and the dark and dangerous places it can take you. The consensus was that she'd simply snapped under the pressure of caring for a severely handicapped person for 34 years. She tried to do what she thought was right. S

The reporter never did dig deeper, she never did write the book. That's too bad because the tale was one of love and madness. I often think about Betty and wonder how she is coping with prison. Her daughter is dead, that is true, but the tale calls for compassion for a woman who did too much, who gave everything away. In the end both lives were ruined.

Fried Green Tomatoes

It's been the longest time since we've cooked together. It's that time of year to make fried green tomatoes! Have you ever had them? If you haven't then give them a try.

If your garden is anything like mine, you've got lots of these on the vine.



My tomato plants were looking sad, so I pulled all the remaining tomatoes off the vine and cut them back. I was left with about a dozen green tomatoes. I put them on my windowsill to ripen, some are perfect for frying up. The odd looking tomato on the left is too green. It's hard and dark green, not suitable for frying yet.

The tomato on the right with just a touch of pink/red around the top is perfect.

In a shallow pan, slightly beat one egg. Cut a couple tomatoes into 1/2 inch slices. Mix together equal parts of flour and corn meal, a little salt, pepper and a dash of cayenne and place in a dinner plate OR use a packaged mixture for frying fish. I like this one because it's already seasoned and has a little bite to it.



Dip the tomato slices into the egg mixture and then dredge in the flour/cornmeal mixture. Fry in oil on medium high heat until brown on both sides.



Drain on paper towels.



Serve hot.



The cornmeal makes them crunchy and good. I like mine salted well.

I served my fried green tomatoes with beef brisket slices and my favorite beans-right-out-of-the-can.



I'm sure it's the bourbon that makes them so good.

Have a great day everyone. Fry some green tomatoes!!!

Blogging Takes a Beating

It's 1:30 a.m. and I'm knee deep in apron body parts. My little in-home studio seems to be closing in on me. I'm sure the fabric is breeding at night when I'm not looking. My plan was to stay up and see if I could catch the homespun canoodling with the polyester.

My plan is to get enough put together to make a decent showing at some upcoming holiday craft fairs. My years at the newspaper taught me to set goals and to keep on track. Unfortunately all these daily sewing/stitching/crocheting goals have caused my blogging to take a beating.


I'd love to go for a ride on this V-12 and clear my mind.

Not long ago I was at a party attempting to explain blogging to someone. It's hard to believe that there are still people out there who have never heard of a blog, but there are.

In a nutshell I told her that I cook, photograph, share recipes, write stories, plan trips, interview people, share craft ideas and make friends. Halfway through the explanation she stopped me and said, "So.....blogging is your job?"

That stopped me in my tracks. Well, yes, I guess she was right. Blogging is my job, a job that doesn't pay!!

All the time I sat at the newspaper, it FELT like a job. It was work. But blogging has never FELT like work because I'm in control of the content and the pace. Blogging has always been fun to me and I hope you're having some fun also.

Currently I'm suffering from a lack of inspiration in my writing, but there are a couple of things coming up that will probably kick start me again.

The most interesting thing I'm going to be doing is working on an archaeological dig at a local historical site. You're invited along. We'll also be returning to the Heritage Gardens for their Autumn Pioneer Festival.

So, stayed tuned. Wit, wisdom and wild fun is sure to follow.

Lost in Space

Yesterday was our annual neighborhood block party. It's always fun to get together with neighbors and catch up on what's going on in our lives. There's always some good food involved.

As the afternoon wore into evening we continued our discussions. Our neighbors Debbie and Tom said, "It's almost time for the show."

Show? What show?

"The International Space Station."

Huh??

It seems that Debbie found a site that allows you to track the orbit of the space station. It gives you the time and location in the sky where the space station will pass over.

OK. I never realized that you could watch the space station. I've laid on my back and stared at the night sky before. If you look continually at a point in the night sky you'll eventually see what appears to be a distant star moving. It will actually be one of the many satellites that orbit the earth. I can't say that I'd ever seen the space station.

Tom said, "It will appear there in the north/northwest sky at 8:20. You'll be very surprised at how bright it is and how fast it moves."

We gathered a whole group of people and Bill turned off his porch light so that it would be dark. Right on cue the space station appeared. It's visible because of the sunlight that is being reflected off it's surface.

It's very bright, as large and bright as Venus. And it's hauling butt across the sky. I mean it's really moving. I think they said it travels at 19,000 miles an hour. Can that be right?

I think I've found a new addiction - watching the space station travel across the night sky!

I think kids (big or small) will be very interested in doing this activity. You can check the schedule in the morning and just walk outside in the evening and watch it pass over.

Thanks Tom and Debbie! Now I'm lost in space.

Click on the link. Enter your country. If it's the U.S. it will ask you for the state and then bring up a menu where you can choose the closest city. The chart will tell you the exact time it will appear.....sometimes twice in one evening. At the bottom there's another chart that gives information for tracking the space shuttle, if there's one in orbit. During the time of docking or undocking you can see both, one appearing to chase the other. Fascinating! As for me, I'm going to be outside tonight at 8:45 to watch the show.

Have fun with this.

INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION TRACKING

A Waggle of Chihuahua

A waggle of Chihuahua.

The Chihuahua's called a family meeting. When they speak, we listen. Let's remember that Pancho is the one that had a Pit Bull cowering in a corner at obedience classes. Let's just say that attitude and an incessant bark go a long way if you want to be taken seriously.

The Chi's wanted to air a complaint that they'd been portrayed in a negative light on the post about our trip. They're right! Those dogs were perfectly behaved during the 13 hour drive. They slept most of the way and as is their habit they followed the sun all around the back seat of the car. They are serious sunbathers!

I told the Farmer that this is proof positive that they would be excellent traveling companions on a road trip across the U.S. in a small motorhome. He's still not convinced. Of course, being unemployed puts a damper on that idea anyway unless we'd like to sell the house and LIVE out of a camper. We're not quite ready for that.

While in the south we visited with the architect that will design our retirement home. It's an interesting creative process, one that I am enjoying. He has a staff of young architects and they're all very enthusiastic and full of interesting ideas. Stay tuned. As this process moves forward I may start a separate blog to journal the progress. What do you think?? "The Farmer Builds a House"? How's that for a blog title?

I'm glad to be back and spending time with all of you. We haven't cooked in awhile and I'm frantically looking for a recipe for the delicious fried green tomatoes and fried green beans we had while on vacation. The fried green beans were especially wonderful. I ordered them twice! I can't imagine dipping each one into coating, perhaps you simply toss them in a mixture. They were SO GOOD.

By the way, the best ribs I've ever eaten in my life are at Shorty Small's in Little Rock, Arkansas. They also serve an onion loaf that's out of this world good. We ate there twice during our 10 day stay.

Have a wonderful Saturday everyone! As a friend of mine always says, get outside and do something fun. For me today, it's mowing!

In Remembrance - William Wren

Several years ago I became a part of something called Project 2996. Each person who agreed to participate was given the name of someone who perished on September 11. Since that time I remember William Wren and his family on this day.



In remembrance -

William Wren - age 61
Resident Manger - OCS Security
Confirmed Dead - World Trade Center

William Wren, a retired New York City firefighter, worked for OCS Securiy as fire security officers in the World Trade Centers.

Raised in Gerritsen Beach in Brooklyn, Wren graduated from James Madison High School, served three years in the U.S. Army and joined the New York City Fire Department. People remember him as a quiet, reserved man who never spoke of his firefighting adventures.

The New York Port Authority contracted with OCS as part of the additional safety precautions that were put into place after the 1993 World Trade Center bombing. Five employees of OCS died on September 11, including Wren's neighbor of over thirty years, Richard Fitzsimons.

Both men were at work on that morning and Wren called his wife Pat shortly after 9 a.m. to say he was OK. But sirens were wailing in the background. Ten minutes later he called back to say that Richard was also OK and that Pat should call his wife and let her know.

That was a last time either family heard from the men. It is known that they continued to perform their duties, along with the other OTC employees who were lost - Philip Hayes, Larry Boisseau and Robert Mayo. They evacuated the day care center first, and with their intimate knowledge of the building continued to evacuate and bring others to safety.

These are just the barest facts of his life and his actions on that day. To tell his whole story, the story of his life and his death, would take an entire book. There are those who can remember him as the man who saved their lives. How would you ever repay a debt of that magnitude? You could remember.... and vow to live your life with the caliber of character exhibited by this man.

Just people..... just doing their jobs....thrust into extreme circumstances. Everyday heroes.

I want William Wren's wife Pat and their children to know that they are in my thoughts and prayers and that we will never forget their loved one or their loss.

A story published September 15, 2001 - The families waited.

You Know You Really Need a Vacation When....

..... you realize that you did not have a single thing to say anymore.

When take one camera on your trip and return with less than 10 PHOTOS!!! (When creative juices are drained you cannot "see" photos, much less take them). Normally I take a minimum of three of my cameras and return with upwards of 1,000 images to cull through and process.

When you don't see even one "sight", not even the Alligator Farm you swore to take in this time around. (Nope, nor the diamond mine or the botanical gardens or Presidential Library. Nothing, nada, zip.)

The Farmer golfed, alot. I dropped him off at the golf courses and picked him up, alot. In between I stumbled across wildlife including many curious fawns.



This seems to have been a bumper crop year for deer romance. I have never seen so many fawns in my entire life. It was a stinking Bambi explosion.



They took off running after they realized I was using them for blog fodder.

I also encountered a flock of wild turkeys.



They're in the brush, practicing their camouflage techniques.

A coyote made a mad dash in front of my car one night. It was too dark to get a photo and besides, I was practicing my defensive driving maneuvers.

I read lots of police reports in the local newspaper, whichis the best form of humor in this village. One police call involved a woman who called 9-1-1 after her friend failed to show up for the breakfast they'd planned at a local restaurant. It turned out the woman forgot how to get to the restaurant and went shopping instead. I'm not making this up!

I also read the classified ads in the same newspaper. There was a wedding dress for sale. "Perfect for Deer Hunt wedding. White and camo wedding gown - $800".

More wildlife. I kept my distance from this one.



I sat in a hotel parking lot and attempted to pirate their wireless connection to no avail. Hotels are getting savvy to scurvy pirate ways. I moved across the parking lot to a coffee shop that was closed (it was Sunday) and was successful at getting online with their WiFi signal. I was quite the sight sitting in the back seat of my car trying to catch up on your blogs.

Did I forget to mention that I had a fabulous massage?

The Farmer bought these:



I bought these:



The vacation was over and we drove home - 13 hours in a car with two chihuahuas and my mother.

I need another vacation.

The kind that involves an island with no roads and one brewery,