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Left to our own devises my brothers and I, on summer days while mother worked, cut hickory saplings half again as tall as we were and pole vaulted over the clothes line strung from the chicken house to the utility pole at the front fence line. We put an old mattress over a wash tub and jumped onto it from the upstairs window. We staggered across the yard on stilts made from 2X4s and sawed machine guns from "one by" board. My brother pocked the wooded hill behind the house with caves and trenches for games of war and adventure and survival and the smooth dirt beneath the back porch was a marvel of his architecture with carefully sculpted roads, cattle in the form of dried locust shells behind string fences held up by match sticks and "brick" homes with underground garages for tiny cars.

But what we really wanted was a pond. Or even a small lake!!

The creek behind the house, a rather pathetic trickle most of the year, often ran wide and gloriously frightful in the spring. That spring,an unusually dry one, we worked doggedly and with high hearts intent on creating our very own pond. But constantly the porous soil, in its miraculous fecundity, defeated us, absorbing and retaining every drop of moisture.

We had made a most wonderful find of a battered, lead-lined water heater that had been cut in half lengthwise. With visions of sea battle and long, (at least fifteen feet) voyages we sweated and shoved that old vessel, already endowed with seaworthiness in our minds, the quarter of a mile downhill to the gully through which the wondrous trickle of water ran. For three days we dug and shoveled and transported buckets of clay to block the trickle of water to form our great lake. Yes, it had become a Great Lake effort.

At the end of the third day, muddy, exhausted in the glorious exhaustion of an honorable defeat, we left the gully, still inhabited by its patient trickle of water, and after the nightly wash at the pump and a solemn supper at the crowded board of a family so large our solemnity went unnoticed, we wrapped ourselves in our quilts for a nights sleep in the sideyard. (We never slept inside in summer unless it rained.) Before sleep came we spent a few mumbling moments on plans for the next day. We would haul more clay...bring that big stump down closer to the east bank...etc..etc..and so we slept.

But life is often a tangle of miracles and minor tragedies and we were recipients of a miracle in that the rains came, and in the middle of the night we had to jump from our quilts, roll them up and dash to the house where we spent the rest of the night sleeping to the delicious murmur and roar of a Missouri summer rainstorm.

The next morning we knew we had our lake! Naked to the waist, in ragged underwear and knee-high rubber boots we raced to the gully and launched our leaden craft. My brother, Merle, held tight the end with the spigot hole while I jumped in. He, his long spindly white legs shining with mud, slipped over the metal edge of the truncated water heater.. and for at least 45 glorious seconds we floated!!

Navigation is a wonderful thing!!!

Bringing in the Houseplants.

I brought the houseplants in this morning. An annual ritual in our climate. Frost is coming and it is cold and misty.

My brother, Merle's, cactus is waist high again after being broken off twice in the last five years. The Aloe Vera that has lived and died to live again about a zillion times is looking a little pale from the chill and the small Jade in the strawberry shaped jar my friend Grace gave me is perky but still small after three years. But the four geraniums Mary Ann gave me this summer are blooming away and the straggly begonia has a lot of bloom although little leaf. The current descendent of Grampa Farmer's Christmas cactus is very thick and putting on new growth with the season change. I hope it blooms this year. It has for the last two years and is so pretty.

The pears are starting to fall in earnest and I'll pick off the last of the few green tomatoes today.

Well, it's October in North Missouri..what's to be said..

The Good Hands

I gave up on my hands for beauty a long time ago. As a child, in moments of stress, I knawed at them like a fox in a trap, leaving the knuckles skinless and the nails chewed to the painful quick. The habit never completely left me and though I no longer attack the skin of my knuckles, no cuticle of mine can be described as more than ragged and every nail still shows signs of uneven nibbling.

Other things and other activities have taken their toll on a perfectly good pair of hands that, given to another person with gentler habits and treated more kindly, might have passed for “gracious” or “full of character”.

But they weren’t and I have used them hard. I have never thought twice about testing hot griddles, sweeping ice from frosty windshields, snatching children from the jaws of death with the precarious hold of an index-finger crooked in a belt loop, the string of a lifejacket or even once to be sawed almost to the bone by the chain of a fragile ankle bracelet. As a farmer I have stuck my hands down the throats of more creatures than I can remember and have had occasion to address the other end also.

I fear I have slung too many 2X4s and heave-ho'd too many hay bales and bags of grain...

Had them in too much too-hot wash water...Hung too much laundry to freeze dry.. Had them mashed and mangled and steamed and half-frozen on too many low-paying jobs..

My hands have served me well and although never pretty I try not to be too critical of them.

And when I get to heaven..if the Good Lord asks me, "Well, Laura, aren't you grateful that I gave you a prettified face when you were a girl and two husbands?".. I will say, "Not particularly, Lord, but I sure got a lot of good out of those ugly hands."

October in North Missouri

October in North Missouri

There is an inspiring urgency about October in North Missouri...an anticipation..an apprehension of winter memories..that heightens the senses.

Those first cool days with wind more brisk, that in their grumbling whisper, rattle corn stalks in their fields and shake the dry oak leaves from their bark grip...those strong oak leaves that refused to be coaxed free by the sweet coaxings of September.., the winds of those first October days seize and conquer and send them scattering and dashing across the field and yard and roadway..leaving the trees, at last, barren.

And in this changing season you might see a full grown cow, too old and far too large to act so childish, "hike" her tail and gallop into the wind, tossing her big head, and stop and paw as if she sought some worthy adversary.. some opponent to match such strength as one feels in October in North Missouri.

And luckily, no adversary appears and she will resume her place in the herd with a marvelous face-saving toss of the tail and the peculiar rocking trot of a mature cow.

That's what October in North Missouri does to you.

The Lives of Presidents Wives

I can personally remember thirteen presidents and their wives. (I told you I was old.) This is what really gets me about the Republicans claim to moral superiority and "family values."

The virtues,accomplishments and family values of all the First Wives since WWII are as follows;

Mamie Eisenhower, Patricia Nixon and Betty Ford, all Republicans, suffered so severely from debilitating alcohol and/or drug addictions through most of their adult life, that it was public knowledge.

Three of the wives of Republican presidents, Betty Ford, Patricia Nixon and Nancy Reagan, were former actresses, chorus dancers or aspiring actresses.

Of the six Republican wives in this time period only three went past high school. Three had four year degrees (Nancy Reagan's was in Theater Arts.)

None of the Republican wives ever held public office or served in a public capacity beyond their own personal charities, such as The Betty Ford Foundation", a for profit facility for the treatment of drug and alcohol addiction or Nancy Reagan's interest in stem cell research because of her husbands Alztheimers condition.

Church attendance prior to their husband's attaining the presidency was scanty at best for almost all the Republican wives, as was their husband's. Nancy Reagan's interest in Scientology and Astrology became controversial when it became public knowledge that she was setting her husbands agenda according to the predictions of her personal astrologer.

Of the seven Democratic wives their are no debilitating addictions. Evidently democrats can't dance or sing as their are no actresses, dancers or singers. Five had four-year degrees. Four of those earned graduate degrees and two of those four earned law degrees. Two served ambassadorships and one went on to serve in the U.S. Senate, ran for the nomination of the Democratic party for the presidency and currently serves as United States Secretary of State.

Eleanor Roosevelt and Bess Truman were Episcopalian and regular churchgoers. Rosalynn Carter is a devout Baptist, as is Michelle Obama. Hillary Clinton was raised in the Methodist church, was very active in it and still attends church. Lady Bird Johnson was presented the Congressional Gold Medal and The Presidents Medal of Freedom for her efforts on behalf of the environment. Rosalynn and her husband together were awarded the Presidents Medal of Freedom.

Summer the Heifer Calf Comes to the Farm

Summer, the heifer calf came to the farm one July day in the most miraculous way. Moving day had come and gone for my nephew's herd, a half mile east of The Farm. All of his cows and their spring-born calves had been loaded and moved out. A half mile back to the west I was bottle feeding a Holstein steer and enjoying the cool morning of a hot July day. As I hung onto the square, two-quart plastic bottle while the steer nursed his fill I heard a calf bawling off to the west. Just a time or two..then it stopped. That night I heard it again and it bawled the whole time the steer nursed. The next morning I heard it again but just barely. Something was not right. I decided to go check it out and ...well, it's Summer's story so I'll let her tell it in her own way.....

Summer Comes to the Farm
How one little heifer calf came to the farm.

The first thing I ever saw was my mother's face. She worked hard to clean a lot of goop off of me. I don't know how it got all over me but I felt a lot better when she finished. Standing up was really hard but my mother kept encouraging me and told me she had a really good surprise in a pocket behind her leg but I had to stand up to get it. She was so right! It took me a while to find it but it was a GOOD surprise. It made my tummy feel all warm and good and suddenly I was very sleepy. I crumpled onto the grass and while I was drifting off to sleep I could still hear her crooning to me. The world was a very nice place.

The second time I filled my tummy she told me we were going to move to a quieter place and she started to walk away. I followed as best I could until we came to a low place at the foot of a little hill. She said it was the pond dam and that it would be shady from the big trees all day and a safe place because the smaller trees covered me up pretty well. She told me that no matter what ever happened that I was not to make any noise or leave the hidey hole if she was not there to watch over me. I stayed in that hidey hole for several days. I watched the turkey mothers and their chicks strut up the path to the pond early each morning and the deer came in the evening. They hardly gave me a glance. Sometimes in the afternoon dogs came, sometimes three or four dogs, and when the dogs came my mother always stood over me and never took her eyes off the dogs. My mother did not like dogs.

After a day or two, each morning I would take a run, making short circles and hiking my tail and it was so much fun. The world was a very nice place.

Then one afternoon I was wakened by a lot of loud noises. Grinding, rattling noises and banging noises and loud-voice noises. I peeked through the screen of leaves that covered my hidey hole and saw several very strange creatures. Something had happened to their front legs and they had to do the best they could on just their hind legs. Their legs had hardly any hair on them at all!! They were chasing all the cows and waving their poor front legs at them and making them go into a little pen and my mother was one of them that went into the little pen. All the cows and the other calves, who were all older and a lot bigger than me, had to go into the little pen.

And I did as my mother said and made no noise at all and did not leave my hidey hole and pretty soon I was very sleepy again and I dozed off. It was the quiet that finally woke me. It was very quiet. Sometimes quiet is good and sometimes quiet is very scary and this was a very scary quiet. There was no other sound around me. I could no longer hear the rumble-rumble of my mother's stomach. I could hear no munching of the other cows or the sound of their drinking at the water's edge. I heard nothing. And it was very scary but I did as my mother had told me and lay very still. Night was falling and my tummy was feeling cold and empty. I expected my mother to come back to the pond dam, swinging my surprise beneath her. But she did not come. And I began to cry. I'm sorry, but I couldn't help it. It was time for my surprise and my tummy hurt and I did not want to be alone. I called for my mother and asked her please to come back but she did not come.

All night I waited but she did not come. The deer came again to stand at the top of the dam and in the morning the turkey mothers and their chicks passed my hidey hole and in the afternoon the dogs came. I was afraid of the dogs without my mother there to watch and I lay very still hoping they would not see me. Surely my mother would come by night. But she did not and again I cried and called for her but she did not come and my tummy was hurting. It hurt so bad I left my hidey hole and went in the moonlight to the pond's edge and sniffed the wetness and drank. It was not good like my mother's goodness but it helped the hurting in my tummy. I went back and lay down to wait some more and when morning came I was too tired to cry very hard or call very loud but I did call one more time. Surely she would come this morning but she did not come.

And then I heard sounds but not my mother's sounds so I did not leave my place. And when I turned my head one of the strange creatures was standing not very far away. She talked softly, not hollering like the other creatures when they made my mother go in the pen, but she moved closer and closer until I finally jumped to my feet and she turned and walked away.

And it was very quiet again. And my tummy really hurt. Not long after that the creature came back and another creature with her and they both talked very quietly but moved closer and closer and she did not walk away when I jumped up so I panicked and ran and ran as fast as I could toward the tall trees across the meadow at the bottom of the dam. And because of their poor front legs, I suppose, they did not try to follow me.

It was hot in the tall trees and pretty soon another creature was there talking to me and he began to sing and hum and he kept singing and humming and the sound was so interesting that he was very close to me before I even noticed. In fact he had touched my head and back and neck with his front legs! And I jumped to my feet. But he neither walked away or came toward me but moved slowly to the side and I moved away from him and kept moving trying very hard not to panic and before I knew it I was in a place where I couldn't go any farther. I was in the little pen!

And then he walked away but returned with the other creature and they followed me on either side into a corner and grabbed me and the bigger creature lifted me up and I believed for the first time that there was nothing wrong with their front legs. And he put me in a big, hard box and the box moved.

Then I was lifted again and carried to a place I know my mother would have liked. There was sweet grass and the light was dim and no scary thing was around.

And then one of the creatures came back and she had a square thing attached to her front legs that she stuck in my mouth and after I bit it a couple of times I realized! It was another surprise!

But this creature didn't really know much about it and she made it much harder than it ought to be and I had to work very hard to get anything from the square box and there was really no reason to make it that hard! My mother had made it very easy, the surprise just came out, but this was very hard. I lost patience and banged at it and butted it and one time I banged it so hard it came off of the creature and flew into a corner. Then we had to start all over again. But finally we worked it out and my tummy was full and warm again and I was very sleepy and I dropped into the sweet grass and went to sleep.

And here I am.

September in North Missouri:

God became so weary of all the heat and sludge and blowing snow and typhoons and sub-zeros necessary for this old planet to remain productive that he took himself off to North Missouri and declared it September.

There he ordered all skies blue, all grass to whisper, all clouds to be white and float gently, all birds to rest and sing. He asked for the blue chicory to line the roadsides and yellow sunflowers to adorn the fence rows. He sprinkled the fields with the white of Queen Anne's Lace.

In the early morning he called out the softening mist and the wild turkey to walk in it, and at twilight, the deer. He coaxed the delicious puffball mushroom from out of the pasture grasses and allowed the scent of fresh-cut alfalfa to waft over the land.

At night he raised the sickle moon in a clear obsidian sky and allowed the stars their purest glow. He called out the great horned owls to take their places in the giant white-oak trees that line the creek bottoms and was calmed by their gentle "whooo...hoo".

Realizing that the great owls needed an opening act of sorts the cicadas were strewn across the gullies and woodlands to fill the twilight with their mezzo voices.

And to keep him cognizant of time he posted the coyote at each hill top...their "yip-yiiip..yip...yiip"s in the stillness of the predawn, reminding him that winter must come.

But for now it is September in North Missouri.

And it is beautiful.