“Kitty go yow-yow! Kitty go yow-yow!” One of our sons, as a toddler, used to delight in seeing the barn cats over at the farm. He would point a tiny finger and proclaim to us: “Kitty go yow-yow!” And so, when a particularly vocal kitty started hanging out with us back in March, Gary and I resurrected the phrase. Here’s a photo I sent to James, still at college: It was nice to see such a handsome fellow cross our…
“Gary Werne! Not again!” My husband got a nervous look on his face, but quickly replied: “Those boxes aren’t for me. They’re for Mr. Wense.” Several boxes had arrived that day from multiple mail-order book clubs. Another batch of books we had not ordered, from book clubs of which Gary was already a member. Gary, who never before nor since has shown the least sign of sneakiness, was simply the victim of a mailing-list typo. Flash back to 41 years…
Farmer Gary has been incredibly patient as this blog has explored mostly my ancestors, as we peer back over the decades. But now, it is (ahem!) time to explore the story of a special clock from long, long ago. Gary remembers that his mom really wanted to inherit that clock. She’d grown up with it, after all. Every Sunday evening, her father – Mike Mehling – would smoke his pipe. Then he would gently remove the clock from its shelf…
For the last three days, the haunting melody of the Beatles’ “She’s Leaving Home” has tormented my brain. Now that I read through the lyrics, though, I realize very little applies. Our youngest isn’t running away. James is heading into his new life. Adult life. About an hour ago, Gary and I waved from our front porch (a lovely tradition from Mom’s aunt and uncle May and Pip) as James pulled out of the driveway with the last load of…
It’s an utter disgrace to be the wife of a farmer and not have a green thumb. (If I’d written this a decade ago, when moo cows were still a-plenty around here, that would have been an “udder disgrace.” I may stink at gardening, but I can pluck a pun from miles away.) Nevertheless, we keep trying. Last year, we planted three Black-Eyed Susan plants. One survived. “That’s one in three,” Farmer Gary remarked recently. He’s too nice a guy…
“Ouchie post!” I can’t begin to tell you how many times that little voice popped up from the back seat of our car. But I knew what he meant. Our youngest had spied a new and unusual ouchie post and was wildly gesticulating, hoping I’d be just as excited to see it. It was only recently, though, as we reminisced, that I learned more about the obsession. Farmer Gary remembers that James wasn’t much more than a toddler at the…
Farmer Gary and I have a tradition. Each evening, he asks me to look up how many readers visited this blog over the past day. It ranges greatly, depending on whether I’ve added a new post that day. Then comes the really good part. “Where are they from?” Blog analytics are fascinating. I haven’t splurged on a deep-dive system (yet), but the one I use lists readers by their nation. Gary never tires of it. Of course, the majority of…
Alright, so that’s not a direct quote from one of this month’s books, but it’s close. Six books this month, with so many more calling out to me from literally every room in the house. The year 2021 brought with it my first Folio Society (a British company, now employee-owned) purchases, to add to the 550 volumes we inherited from Dad and Mom. This year also included the delightful discovery of Your Brothers Bookstore, an independent shop in downtown Evansville….
Is there a term for a grandma who buys her LEGO-crazed grandson a set that she fully intends to keep, once built? (He will, of course, be welcome to visit it any time he likes.) I sprung the challenge on Cameron during our Thanksgiving get-together on Saturday. His response was almost poetic: Goose! If you buy it, I’ll build it! Within minutes, our Master Builder was hard at work, with his trusty sidekick, Papaw, at the ready. (Farmer Gary has…
A busy month, with our trip to Connecticut to clear out Mom & Dad’s house, but books managed to wave their pages as me, seeking to soothe my sore muscles and aching heart with an escape to wonderland. A side note: Farmer Gary puts me to shame when it comes to level of voracious reading. While in Connecticut, he kept a pile of newspaper circulars to read when he had a few minutes. We’d canceled Dad‘s newspaper and magazine subscriptions,…