I know I've said it before, but the sight of so many beautiful gardens is a thrill to behold. While driving I-35 recently I noticed a clothesline as beautiful as a work of art with colorful clothes hanging to dry. It seems to be another revival of an old task that’s come back more abundant — probably because it eases the cost of clothes being dried in a drier, but I'd like to think it is because the homemaker likes the feel and smell of outdoor dried clothes even more.

My neighbor always has a line of bright colored clothing drying on the line; in fact, just about every day. As a busy mother I am sure it would be tempting to throw them in the drier, but she takes the time to lovingly hang them out to dry.

There is an art to hanging clothes on those clotheslines.

There are clotheslines, and then there are clotheslines. Metal lines, they require a good wash so there aren't dark lines left on the wet clothes. There were rope lines, but they liked to sag and needed a prop, a long pole with a couple of contacts at the top. The prop was used in the middle of the line to help hold it up as the weight of the clothing would stretch the line and the longer clothes would scrape the ground and get dirty.

It is strange how pictures form in your mind. My mother can still remember when a young bride from Ellendale, Elaine Miller, used to hang her laundry on the clothesline to dry. So precise and so carefully she hung the socks by the toe, one by one; shirts by the tail, so there wouldn't be marks at the shoulder. Everything got a good shake or a hand that brushed away wrinkles. White clothes were hung by whites. Why? So they didn't catch color?

It’s fascinating how much care was taken in hanging jeans or work pants. The pockets that could were brought to the outside so they would dry faster and the pant tops were smoothed as much as possible. People differed in how they hung pants. Some used metal forms that they slipped inside the legs to help them dry smooth and with a crease, but that was tedious and the forms didn't always fit the pants. Most pants were hung leg up, which was simple, but the pants took longer to dry because the heavy part of the pants was at the bottom where moisture seemed to accumulate, and the sun and wind seemed to ignore them. My mother hung jeans seam to seam. It took longer to dry, but she could crease them with her hand. Back in the good old days, if you wore jeans for anything but work, you wanted creases to simulate dress pants, and the darker the color the better.

How well I remember my second cousin, Beulah. She and her husband both worked at Wilson’s in Albert Lea. She ironed their jeans with a crease sharp as a knife. They went to work looking nicer than most people do now going to a wedding. Jeans that teens buy now are full of holes, bleached and torn and would have been thrown in the garbage can back in Beulah’s day.

Back to the clothesline. A clean soapy rag was wrapped around the hand and the housewife walked the entire set of lines using strength and energy to make sure that the line was clean and stain free. This was almost always done on Monday, the day was set aside for wash day.

There was a ditty, “Wash on Monday, iron on Tuesday, mend on Wednesday, etc.” Most clothes were hung out for the better part of the day depending on the weather. But the homemakers had to be careful the colored clothes wouldn't get too much sun, which would cause them to fade. Clothes especially required all the sun they could get. Clothes were sorted and folded to baskets, and the clothes that would require ironing were kept separate. They could have been brought in damp, but usually were "re-damped" probably by a shake of a hand-wet with water or from a bottle with a tip on the end that sprinkled the clothes. More than likely they would be ironed the next day. With the sophistication of freezers, some were froze so they wouldn't mildew before the housewife would be able to iron them.

Back to the clothes line again. Most generally, "good” clothes or whites were washed and hung first for "”curb appeal.” Sheets and towels were also hung on outside lines to hide the unmentionables on inside lines. If one clothespin could hold the edge of neighboring items, it saved on the number of clothespins needed. Incidentally, clothespins were never left on the lines but put in a little cloth basket so could be slid along the line. Pins left on the line were quick to pick up that black stuff that marred clean clothing.

My aunt Toody, Helyn Langlie, was a clothesline hanger as long as her age would let her, summer or winter. For one thing, she liked the smell of line dried clothes. Who could dispute or duplicate the freshness of freeze-dried clothes in the winter?

Back when driers first came on the market, Mrs. Wittmer, who used to live west of Geneva, thought it was a luxury to use a drier. Her husband assured her it saved time and labor for her, just like when his farm machinery was updated for the same reason. That thought did ease some of the guilt she had for "wasting" electricity on the frivolous.

I have heard that clotheslines are outlawed in some places because it is felt that they can be a hazard, which I guess could be true. My dad, while playing midnight tag as a kid, ran into one that tried to strangle him.

I remember all the tents we used to make using the clotheslines for ridge posts as we stretched old blankets while we played house. Now tents come from Wal-Mart!

Some of our Star Eagle readers have commented they like to read about events such as family and school reunions, birthdays and anniversaries, and birth and wedding announcements.  In order to read about these important things we need our faithful readers to pass along the information to us.  Also if you have an idea for a story that you think would be of interest to our readers, please contact me.

If you have birthdays and anniversaries you would like include, or news to share, please contact me via e-mail, This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.; by postal mail, P.O. Box 192, Geneva, MN 56035 or telephone, 507-256-4405.

This week’s birthdays and anniversaries include:

• Thursday, August 7th: August 7th: Shelly Mangskau, Zachery Vangen, Lori Titus, Dylan Waltz, Jack Jensen, Dakota Wayne Heideman, Kaityn Quimby, David Arbogast, Darren Casper, Allen Wacek, Tom & Katie Marlin

• Friday, August 8th: Ian Matthew Wayne, Luke Wangsness, John Vander Stoep, Jamie Walworth, Kathy Born, Scott Crabtree, Jessica Marcus, Sharon Miller Jensen, Barb O'Conner, Gary Peterson, Emily Jensen, Marc Collins, Matthew Swift, Don Gould, Mya Glienke

• Saturday, August 9th: Aaron & Mickki Heimer, Linda Wayne, Mavis Knudtson, Steven LeRoy Christensen, Cherie Halla, Karen Holmes, Amber Nordland, Angie Reichl, Dustin Jepson, Sierra Ellen Misgen, Josiah Jeffrey Schei, Christopher Quentin Haberman

• Sunday, August 10th: Jovey Kathleen Knudson, Lynn Arends, Linda Weckwerth, Teresa Wright, Jeff Olson, Vernon Cornelius, Michelle Brandt, Richelle Butler Chapman, Melisssa Cornelius Large, Dustin Dobberstein, Thayne Nordland, Ross & Kathie Lein, Steve & Kathy Nelson, Darrin & Linda Stadheim

• Monday, August 11th: Nicole & Daniel Burns, 2012; Nicole & Dallas Loken, Brian Broulik, Vicki Humburg, Jeremy Kaiser, Mike Plunkett, Kris Simon Freitas, Sharon Sorenson, Kim Anderson Schneider, Brian Thostenson, Irvin Jensen Jr., Kevin Avery, Luke Clark Wangsness, Pagie Sophia Kromminga

• Tuesday, August 12th: Linda & LaVerne Stieglbauer, their 50th wedding anniversary this year; Shawna Robertson, Tessa Christensen, Kristine Schroeder, Cindy Oswald, Cindy Nelson, Cynthia Crabtree, Thomas Smith, Ross Swearingen, Genie Hanson, Amy Tasker

• Wednesday, August 13th: Dennis Deml, Tim Enzenauer, David Haddy, Bob Brandt, Lisa Dummer, Megan Dummer, Janet Hope, Kellie Petranek, Sylvia Jepson, Saxton Chad Ritz

• Thursday, August 14th: David & Carrie Paulson, Mark Sorenson, Lucille Nechanicky, Gretchen Oswald Thompson, Peter Kasper, Leah Berg, Wes Neidermeier, Alison & Chad Muilenburg

• Friday, August 15th: Roger Wayne, Obert Osmundson, Kaye Dee Hanson, Nancy Nelson, Stephanie Peterson, Rhonda Shelton, Cade Shelton, Brian Warnke, Dorrie Horan, Michael Suelter, Larry & Kathleen Jensen, Kellie Benning, Brian Warnke, Maverick Harold Knutson

Wishing you much happiness on your special day!

The Albert Lea High School class of ‘64 is holding its 50th class reunion this coming weekend, August 8th and 9th. The class of ’64 was the first class to be significantly bigger than the preceding class, but as the baby boom continued, classes got so big they had to hold graduation at the fairgrounds. So we led the boom, were much bigger than the class of ‘63, but we weren't the biggest class.

In ’64 the downtown was the hub of the community, stores were open until 9 p.m. on Friday nights and “dragging Broadway” was what we did on Friday and Saturday nights. There were many “hang outs” like Phil’s Café, Field’s Pizza Cellar, Dee’s Drive-in, and we would spend a lot of time at the Broadway and Rivoli Theaters. In those days it seems like there was a drive-in in almost every area of town that offered burgers, fries and shakes. You could get a pronto pup and a frosty mug of root beer at the A&W drive-in, which was a popular place when you were dragging Broadway. We liked hot cars and, unlike today, they didn’t all look the same. It seems as if there were almost as many car clubs around back then as there were drive-ins.

The teen center was a popular place where live bands would usually perform on weekends. There were bands like the Closers, Little Cesar and the Conspirators, Surfin’ Ole and a lot more whose names elude me. The Starlight Drive-in was also on the list of popular places we liked to go on weekends. Summers were usually spent hanging out at the beach during the day and dragging Broadway at night. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to be drag racing on South Broadway or the Bath Road on a Friday or Saturday night, not for pink slips but for bragging rights.

Growing up north of town in the ‘50s and attending Hammer School, which was where the football field is located today, afforded me six years of country school education. The years spent there are probably the most memorable of all my school years. This is where not only the three “R’s” were taught, but where many valuable life lessons were learned as well. As kids we learned politics from our parents and whoever Dad supported, he was the man! I remember when Adlai Stevenson and Dwight Eisenhower ran for president and the “I Like Ike” button that my Uncle Orville left at the house because he knew my dad was a staunch Democrat.

For us baby boomers, life was fairly simple back then and most importantly we learned to be creative because we made our own brand of fun. I can remember playing kickball and other organized games on phy. ed day when Mr. Maas would come to the school and oversee our play time. This, however, was not the play time we looked forward to; the best times were at recess when we played games on our own like Red Rover and ones that we had created.

Our class was the first one to go all three years through Southwest, which was a brand spanking new school. Although it was an adjustment coming from a two room schoolhouse to the big glass one, those were good years with good teachers and lots of memories.

During our days at Central High School we had certain rules that we had to adhere to, like a pretty strict dress code. Loren Ward, our superintendent, was ex-Army and his rules were strict and pretty much without any flex. Our lunch time was actually our own and that was a time when we could go out of the building and eat lunch. Some days I would bring a sack lunch and eat in my or someone else’s car. Most days however, I would go to Shea’s Ice Cream Store where you could get a couple of those “silver dollar” hamburgers, milk and an ice cream roll for about 50 cents. If you wanted to eat a little lighter there was Merrill’s popcorn stand on the corner of Broadway and Clark.

Probably the one day that sticks in my mind the most is the day that President Kennedy was shot. I was sitting in Mr. Christopherson’s social studies class when that stunning news came over the speaker. I can remember spending the next few days intently watching the events unfold on our old black & white 19-inch Zenith. I was watching when Jack Ruby shot Lee Harvey Oswald on live TV.

After graduation you either got a job or you went to school, but always in the back of the minds of us young men was the reality of the Vietnam War and the draft. This affected a lot of our classmates and many changes followed; most of us made it home safely, but some gave the ultimate sacrifice and they should never be forgotten.

The following two paragraphs were part of a book introduction written by a classmate of mine; Joan Claire Graham:

We share a common background. Most of us grew up in Albert Lea. Only a few of our moms worked outside the home, most of us attended church as children, and if our dads were not farmers or professionals, they held down steady jobs at factories like Wilsons, Queen Stove, Universal and Streater. We were the first of the post war boomers, babies born during a time of optimism that carried our country into a new era of growth and prosperity. Men used GI benefits to get an education or buy a house, and the population exploded, triggering a building boom in Albert Lea. Very few homes in the Ginkel Addition, Garden Villa or Shoreland Heights were built before 1945. From the time we were born until we graduated from high school, the population of our little city grew by 35%.

Although we were expected to help our parents at home, most of us spent the better part of our summers outdoors riding bikes and roller skates, playing neighborhood games of make-believe and participating in organized or disorganized sports. Parents who lived through the Great Depression raised us conservatively and encouraged us to do well in school so we could get a good job and become independent. They endorsed school discipline that included consequences for failure to obey rules, a dress code, and occasionally corporal punishment. They supported a curriculum that offered a rich variety of classes in humanities, foreign languages, math and science, business, agriculture and technical training. The school offered extracurricular activities, and the city, churches and organizations sponsored additional opportunities after school and during summer. It seemed as though everyone wanted us to do our best.

Joan was right when she said that we were encouraged to do our best. I have to honestly say that if it were not for a couple of fine folks — Grace Dahle, my 12th-grade English teacher, and later on, Jim Lutgens, a former sports editor for the Tribune — I would not be writing today.

Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting

How much do you weigh?

I weigh 237 pounds.

Wow!

That’s pretty normal for someone my weight.

Driving by the Bruces

I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: I don't need a parachute to skydive unless I want to do it more than once.

I’ve learned

Mosquitoes let us know that we are never alone.

When you jump in the shower, don't jump in the shower.

To cultivate humility because I never know when I’m going to need it.

Cafe chronicles

Winner, winner, chicken dinner. Or beef dinner or fish dinner or ham dinner.

Their companionship was held together by coffee and gravy.

One man grumbled that no day is so nice that sleep isn’t nicer.

Another admitted that his marriage might be in trouble. His wife just got hearing aids.

A third said that he had protective parents. At his house, they were only allowed to play rock, paper.

He remembered getting his tattoo. His mother loved it. That was because she loved yelling at him.

As I left the eatery, I saw this bumper sticker on a car, "Warsh me."

The gift of a husband

I live where people live in complete harmony with mosquitoes in January.

I’m tall. I'm not so tall that angry villagers carry pitchforks and torches to my house, but I’m tall.

I’ve read that insects are attracted to tall people. I suspect that is true, but would add that they are attracted to short people, too. As a tall man, I do know that I attract ceiling fans.

I have a ceiling fan in my office. It makes me nervous. I probably obtained it as a gift for my wife. That's the way husbands get things.

Duane Spooner of Hartland had gotten his wife a birthday present. When Kathy, his wife, asked where the present was, Duane told her that it was outside, parked in front of the garage. Kathy got excited. She was less thrilled when she saw that there, in front of the garage, was a brand-new burn barrel.

Not an amusement park

There was a minivan right on my bumper and a four-wheel drive pickup not far ahead of me. Nothing unusual about that. Rush hour in a large city, right?

Wrong. I wasn’t driving. I wasn’t even a passenger. I was parked at the county fair. I parked where I’d been directed. The minivan parked behind me was no problem. It was where it should be. The problem was the truck. It had parked ahead of me without thought of others. When I finished working at the fair, it was nearly 11 p.m. I was anxious to get home.

Unfortunately, someone parked the truck as if he’d stolen the vehicle, making it impossible for me to escape the parking lot. The driver was like the lunch lady who snarled, "I can dish it out. Can you take it?"

A traveling man

I drove a Dodge Avenger rental car one day and a Subaru Forrester rental car the next. I liked the Subaru best. Driving the Dodge Avenger made me feel like a superhero that shirks his duty at the last moment.

I spoke on a big boat. A bit of stormy weather came up. The boat was in no danger, but I jokingly told the passengers to throw everything unnecessary overboard. That water was cold.

Report from the road

I drove down Highway 13. My wife was riding shotgun. We met eight white vehicles in a row. It wasn’t a funeral procession and the eight white colors might have been linen, arctic, ermine, pure, classic, Wimbledon, winter white, and ivory, but they were white. White is the most popular color for cars in the US. We’ve become a white car nation.

Did you know?

• The name "Canada" is based on the Iroquoian word kanata meaning "village, settlement."

• The average American consumer eats 142 pounds of potatoes per year.

• The Rice Krispies trio of Snap!, Crackle!, and Pop! were briefly a quartet. Pow! was the fourth.

• Any 31-day month that begins on a Friday has five Fridays, five Saturdays, and five Sundays.

• The sheath at the end of a shoelace is an aglet.

Nature notes

"What is our largest bird?" The largest bird in weight in Minnesota is the trumpeter swan, which hits the scales at up to 30 pounds. The wild turkey weighs as much as 25 pounds. The biggest wingspan is the American white pelican at nine feet.

Meeting adjourned

"Life is an attitude. Have a good one." — Eric L. Lungaard 

The following is a true story with a few modifications. It was sent to Genie by one of her retired registered nurse classmates of Naeve School of Nursing in Albert Lea.

A church in Atlanta, Georgia has honored one of its senior pastors who had been retired for many years. He was 92 at the time, and they asked him to preach.

After a warm welcome and introduction, as the applause quieted down, he rose from his high-back chair and walked slowly, with great effort and a sliding gait to the podium. Without a note or written paper of any kind, he placed both hands on the pulpit to steady himself, and slowly and quietly, he began to speak.

“When I was asked to come here today and talk to you, your pastor asked me to tell you what was the greatest lesson ever learned in my 50-odd years of preaching. I thought about it for a few days and boiled it down to just one thing that made the most difference in my life and sustained me through all my trials.

“The one thing that I could always rely on when tears and heartbreak and pain and fear and sorrow paralyzed me – the only thing that would comfort me was this verse: ‘Jesus loves me, this I know. Little ones to Him belong, we are weak but he is strong. Yes, Jesus loves me – the Bible tells me so.’”

When he finished, the church was quiet. You could actually hear his footsteps as he shuffled back to his chair. There wasn’t a dry eye in the church as everyone rose with a thundering applause and ovation.

Since then, a new version has been written just for us who have white hair or no hair at all. For those of us over middle-age or almost there, and all you others, check out this “Senior Version of Jesus Loves Me:”

Jesus loves me, this I know.

Though my hair is white as snow,

Though my sight is growing dim,

Still He bids me trust in Him.

(Chorus)

Yes, Jesus loves me. 

Yes, Jesus loves me.

Yes, Jesus loves me 

For the Bible tells me so.

Though my steps are oh, so slow,

With my hand in his I’ll go

On through life, let come what may

He’ll be there to lead the way. 

(Chorus)

When the nights are dark and long,

In my heart he puts a song

Telling me in words so clear,

“Have no fear, for I am near.”

(Chorus)

When my work on earth is done,

And life’s victories have been won, 

He will take me home above,

Then I’ll understand his love.

(Chorus)

I love Jesus, does He know?

Have I ever told Him so?

Jesus loves to hear me say

That I love Him every day.

(Chorus)

In conclusion, if you think this is neat, pass it on to your friends. If you do not pass it on; nothing bad will happen, but you will have missed an opportunity to “reach out” and touch a friend or a loved one.

———

Bob is a retired AAL (Aid Association for Lutherans) agent, currently working on his master’s degree in Volunteering. His wife, Genie, is a retired RN, currently working on her doctor’s degree in Volunteering. They have two children, Deb in North Carolina, and Dan in Vermont. Bob says if you enjoy his column, let him know. If you don’t enjoy it, keep on reading, it can get worse. Words of wisdom: There is always room for God.

Four years ago, I came home from my first evening as an elementary basketball coach and asked my wife, “What did I get myself into?” I had coached junior high basketball for more than a decade and was so used to players having some grasp of the game that I was startled by the range of ability in 3rd grade, from players who had probably never bounced a ball before to those that knew proper shooting form.

At the end of May, I did the same thing for baseball. I came home from my first night as coach of 3rd and 4th graders and reiterated that exact same question to Michelle. Again, the range of abilities included those who were afraid of any ball coming at them to those who could muscle an inside pitch into the outfield.

Based on how far those basketball players have come in four years, I had to keep reminding myself that it should happen in baseball too.  Hopefully in four years, I’ll be able to see the same progress on the diamond as I have on the court.

Why do this? I promised Anton that I would coach him for a sport if he wanted, just as I have for Jayna. He enjoys baseball, and I’m happy to help guide these young men in my favorite sport. I get to be a dad in a different role. The conversations we had on the way home from games, commenting about different things that occurred, were priceless. It’s the same thing I’ve had with Jayna over the years with basketball, and I love it!

And this is where it got tough. Jayna played the same nights as Anton this summer. Luckily, his season was shorter and involved a couple of bye games, so I’ve gotten to watch a decent amount of her softball games. But it kills me to miss any of them. It’s just not the same to have Jayna tell me about something that happened.

This has happened before, but I wasn’t always as concerned about the ballgames at younger ages, when the coach pitches and not all the rules are consistent. Now that they both play what I call “real ball,” I want to soak in every moment I can. Those conversations I mentioned didn’t happen after the earlier ages, but now we can talk and I can teach/coach as we spend that quality time together.

Being a dad is such a privilege, and I was even more inspired to be involved after I got to attend the Father of the Year festivities at Target Field this year when Olivia and Lexie won tickets because of their essays and Olivia’s dad was a finalist for the big award. Seeing those girls with their dads and how much they had mutually respectful relationships made me want to strive to be as good a dad as Doug and Tim are already.

Being a coach is a big way I try to do that. I’m able to share my love of sports with my kids and also continue doing a job I’ve always enjoyed. That responsibility for developing a group of youngsters into a competitive group of athletes is a heavy burden, but one I’m glad to have. I’ve also been lucky to share the load with a couple of fine gentlemen: Todd Born with basketball and Rich Mueller this year with baseball. I’ve seen groups of kids where only one parent has ever stepped up to help in any sport, and that’s an Atlas-like load to carry.

I strive to find other things in common with my kids, areas we can talk about and form memories around. Jayna is a voracious reader and has given me some books to read this summer. Anton and I read comics together and enjoy watching comic book-related cartoons and movies. I’m not always around as much once school starts and sports begin, so I find the time I can, especially in the summer.

Not all dads have schedules like I do and can have all these opportunities. But I do know some dads who have crazy busy work schedules and still are invested in the lives of their kids, so I always think a happy medium can be struck. Whatever the activity is, I want to try to have some interest (a little tougher with things like Minecraft and Pokemon that I know little or nothing about). When the kids are excited, that’s generally a good thing.

I’m no Father of the Year candidate, but I enjoy working toward the goal of being the best dad I can so my kids can retain positive memories and use those to be good parents themselves someday.

Word of the Week: This week’s word is harbinger, which means one that foreshadows the approach of something, as in, “Watching the team with many large, strong players enter the dugout was a harbinger of many balls hit to the outfield.” Impress your friends and confuse your enemies!

The scurs continued to dredge up dry weather until the surprise thunder showers rolled through on Monday, bringing some welcome relief to thirsty crops. Will they remember which wire to cross on the Weather Eye this week? Starting Wednesday, partly sunny with a modest chance of a shower or thunderstorm. Highs near 75 and lows in the upper 50’s. Thursday, partly sunny with a slight chance of showers and thunderstorms. Highs again near 75 and lows in the low 60’s. Partly sunny Friday with highs in the upper 70’s and lows in the low 60’s. Saturday, partly sunny with a slight chance of a shower or thunderstorm. Highs in the upper 70’s and lows in the low 60’s. Partly sunny again for Sunday with a slight chance of a shower or thunderstorm. Highs near 80 and lows in the low 60’s. Mostly sunny Monday with a chance for an afternoon or evening shower or thunderstorm. Highs around 80 and lows in the mid-50’s. Tuesday, mostly sunny and cooler. Highs in the mid-70’s and lows in the upper 50’s. The Full Moon for the month occurs on the 10th. The normal high for August 10th is 81 and the normal low is 60. The scurs are hoping the predicted moderate temperatures will allow continued good sleeping with the windows open.

The Full Moon for the month goes by several names, most commonly the Full Sturgeon Moon as this was the month in which the Indian tribes found the sturgeon easiest to catch. It also goes by the Full Green Corn Moon and the Full Grain Moon. The Ojibwe knew this as the Berry Moon, no doubt for the bountiful crop of blueberries they competed with the bears for. The Sioux were keeping an eye on the chokecherries denoting this as the Moon When the Cherries Turn Black. At the ranch, the Moon When Vegetables Overwhelm. The Perseid Meteor Shower should be underway next week, although the brightness of the moon on August 12th and on the 13th during their peak may wash some of the lesser meteors out, making them difficult to see. Fear not, many of them are bright enough to see anyway, points out Deane Morrison from the U of M’s MN Institute for Astrophysics. Look off to the northeast in the evening and pre-dawn hours for the best chances of catching a falling star and putting it in your pocket. 

Crops continue to make substantial progress and those who were lucky enough to receive rain on Monday had to breathe a little sigh of relief. Rainfall amounts were extremely variable with .61” recorded at the ranch, .75” in Bugtussle proper and reports of up to 1.5” both north and south of town. Just what we needed. Not all that far to the north nothing was recorded, so the pattern of hit and miss precip in August established over the past four years continues. Corn is primarily in the blister stage and by most rules of thumb will need about 60 days to make it to maturity. Soybeans continue to be in the R4 stage primarily with some of the replants showing a third and fourth trifoliate. Some later seeded wheat continues to plod towards the finish line and the late planted peas are largely harvested. All in all, a terrible year for pea yields locally. Twelve inches of rain will do that.

Many signs that it is indeed August. The first cicada of the summer was heard at the ranch on August 1st although several days prior, one had been spotted being carried by a cicada killer wasp back to their lair. The tiger lilies are in bloom and the big bluestem has headed out in the pasture at over 6’ tall. Field crickets are more vocal as grasshoppers add their background music to the evenings.

The orioles at the ranch are backing off on their jelly consumption although the gray catbirds seem to be picking up the slack. This has apparently been a banner year for them as I tend to draw “cat calls” whenever I’m inspecting the garden. The catbirds are seldom seen however. The red osier dogwood makes an excellent place for them to nest and hang out in addition to supplying them with an abundant supply of gawd awful bitter tasting white berries. Yes, I’ll try anything once.

Little by little the garden continues to come online. Picked a half gallon of string beans on Sunday as well as another dozen or so cukes. The nice thing about cukes is once you figure out who likes them, it becomes relatively easy to keep up with them. Now zucchinis on the other hand I have yet to figure out. No one will admit they really like them although they do wind up in things such as zucchini bread and on things such as shish kabobs at the ranch. And when they get excessively large the sheep become the beneficiaries. Planted some of the fall veggie crop on Sunday. The snap peas that arrived last week made it into the ground as did some of the red meat winter radishes. Last year’s crop kept phenomenally well and there are a few yet in the fridge from last fall that are still edible. Probably some carrots too. If not see aforementioned comments about the sheep.

Road destruction in front of the Mall for Men has entered its third straight week now. It’s had its ups and downs, although since the rain has been scarce good progress has been made. The water being shut off one forenoon wasn’t a big deal especially since there are tall weeds out back. Luckily the brain trust that was responsible for the Lake Road construction is no longer a factor. That road has rapidly become a topic of disgust and derision for those travelling it on a daily basis. You know it’s a bad sign when people will take a gravel road to avoid driving on the roughest stretch. Driving in the pasture among the gopher mounds is smoother.

See you next week…real good then.