It’s been a crazy summer already.  We had to be at school an extra couple of weeks.  Scott and I took the kids to Pennsylvania right after that.  Trip was great until the way home.  That really stunk.  So we’re running late before we even get started.  Hate it when things go that way.

And then motivational issues set in.  I’m having a really hard time getting myself moving.  Tons to do, but I usually take a little down time before I start and I just don’t have time for that this year.  Which just adds to the frustration of it all.

I think the garden’s finished, which seems crazy to be saying at this time of year. We had to plant late because of the weather.  Last night, we replanted a couple of trouble spots and then put out a late bunch of squash.  Hopefully, some of it will take.  The only thing I have to do now is put in some replacement eggplants and peppers, which I’ll do as soon as I can drag myself out of the house this morning.

The good news is that what’s out looks pretty good.  Scott picked up more cattle panel and the tomatoes and pole beans are ready to run.  I’m going to put up stakes and string for the other sugar snap peas and maybe the cucumbers.  But the big work is completed…except the weeding.  With everything else, that got away from us.  Luckily, the rows are wide enough that Scott just mowed down through there last night.  And we have a big empty section as well.  One row we thought we’d need turns out we didn’t.  The tomatoes, green beans, and corn are sort of separated from the rest of the garden.  Which is fine since the squash types are next to the tomatoes.

So I’m thinking I”m going to put a checklist up on here and start marking things off as I get them completed.  I think that sounds like a plan.  Of course, I always think I’ll use this site more than I do…and then I don’t.  Hmmm….

Oh yeah!  The Welsh Harlequins are here.  Eleven of them.  Apparently, they send you a bonus duck just in case one dies.  It didn’t.  They’re a mess.  Literally.  They got moved out earlier than Ka-pwack and George, who are doing very well, thank you.  George is the girl, by the way.  They were two months old June 2.  I’ll have to check and see how old the babies are.  I’m thinking just a couple of weeks.  Need to get pictures up of everybody.  Crazy crew I have around here.

Alright, so that’s it.  Lots to do.  No time to do it.  Arrrgh!!!!!

While I adored both of my grandfathers, my Granddaddy Malone is the one who always comes to mind in the spring.  He’s probably where alot of my gardening pleasure comes from, though at the time, I didn’t realize exactly how important it would be to me later.  Once the weather starts to clear and things begin to turn green, he’s always in my head.

There are so many things about him that have stayed with me.  Watching him sleep in his chair with a kitten resting on his shoulder.  Listening to

Grandaddy Loved Magnolias

him talk about Kentucky basketball.  Watching him make my aunt’s boyfriends squirm when they came to pick her up.  Seeing the glow of his cigar when we were all out there during the summer, sitting on the front porch in the dark, talking.  And the yelling “conversations” he carried on with the people across the road.

And there were the dogs.  Man, there were so many dogs.  He raised coon hounds and beagles, a couple of bird dogs.  I watched him be so gentle with them and was amazed that a man that gruff could be so sweet.  He could love them, train them, raise them, trade them, and start all over again.  Sometimes, I’d be upset that he’d traded one that I liked, but there would always be another one coming along.

It was part of who he was, you see.  Just part of Grandaddy.  Like he traded knives.  I don’t remember alot of guns, but I remember pocket knives.  There’s no telling how many of those he went through.  I have stories about him and his dogs that would fill a blog, but that’s not for today.  No, today is just Grandaddy day.  And the garden thing.  And I think that’s okay.

He was a pain, I won’t even deny that.  He loved to aggravate and tease better than anyone I’ve ever known.  And he could make you wish you’d never met him.  And then, the next minute, he’d laugh and smile, and you forgave him.  Just like that.  You couldn’t help it.  At least I couldn’t.

I remember watching him every spring, tilling that garden.  Never a small spot, oh, no!  If it didn’t take up most of the back field, it wasn’t big enough.  He’d get home from work and be out there again, planting, hoeing, weeding, fertilizing.  And singing or whistling.  If he couldn’t think of a song that fit the mood, he’d make one up.

Garden Past

When the garden started coming in, we’d start picking and processing.  Grandaddy would help pick and I remember him breaking a few beans or shucking corn.  Maybe helping shell some peas.  But the actual processing wasn’t his job.  He had better things to do.  Of course, that’s part of his generation.  I wonder sometimes what he would say about Scott helping me.  I’m sure he’d aggravate the crap out of Scott for it, like he always did my dad for the things he did for my mother.  And Scott, like my Dad, would take it all in stride.  They’d like each other.  I know they would.

But the funny thing about the garden was I don’t remember my grandfather eating alot of it.  He planted tons of stuff, but only ate a select group of things.  Seriously.  I remember my grandmother telling me he just loved to watch it grow.  Watching it all come up and produce.  That was the fun of it.  And I understand that.  I really do.  I feel the same way.  And I know he smiles when he watches me.

I know he’d like the ducks and chickens, too.  He’s one of the reasons I wish we’d bought a bigger place.  I’m he thinks I need some hogs to

Hey, Grandaddy? Our chickens are a bit spoiled...

slaughter.  Well, I’m not too interesting in THAT, but I would like goats.  Not too sure what he’d say about that one.  I remember all sorts of animals, but not goats.  They didn’t even have cows by the time I came along, or at least by the time I was big enough to remember them.

I guess, besides the garden, there’s another reason why spring always reminds me of him.  Especially with the weather the way it’s been.  See, my freshman year of college, there was a nasty system that blew through.  Winds were awful and it whined and howled all night.  The next day, Saturday, the wind was just as bad, though the clouds had passed.  I was supposed to go and meet the mother of the guy I was dating at the time, taking a day trip to Milan, Tn.  I decided not to go and got up early to call and let him know.

Daddy had been up most of the night with the storm, so he went back to bed after he knew I wasn’t going.  I couldn’t sleep, so I just stayed up.  Not long after Daddy went upstairs, I heard someone at the door.  That was the first time I knew my grandfather made frequent stops on Saturday morning to have coffee with my parents when he “came to town.”  Usually, I was in bed at that time.

When he heard Mom and Dad were still asleep, he got ready to go.  I told him to come on in and I’d fix him coffee.  I knew how, for goodness’ sake.  He looked at me funny, but came in and sat down.  We had coffee and talked for a while, then he went to run his errands.

I never thought anything about it until later.  I was told he went home and told my grandmother I’d grown up.  And I realized that was the first time we’d sat down and talked like adults. And I think it was the first time he truly realized I wasn’t a little girl any more.  I wish I could remember what we talked about.  Just a part of it to have now would be nice.

Less than two years later, I was married with a new baby and away from home for the first time. The day my mother called and told me my grandfather had cancer, I think part of me just melted.  Zach was only a couple months old then, and there were so many things I wanted him to learn from my grandfather.  I wanted him to see how to train a dog to hunt.  To take the “scenic route” to places just down the road and see all of the things and  places my grandfather had to share.  I needed him to be there.  To never go away.

My ex-husband made plans to move us closer to home so I could be with the family.  He knew how much it meant to me to be able to see my grandfather as much as possible.  That was at the end of October.  My grandfather died the next fall.  He got to see his only grandson born and his great grandson turn 1.  I remember worrying because he stopped talking.  When my grandmother asked him about it, he said he was just listening so he could remember.  After ages of being the entertainer, how odd to find him being entertained by us.

At the time of his death, he was so tired, I knew it was time to let him go.  But I miss him so much.  I don’t think I’ve ever stopped.  Zach doesn’t remember him.  Elijah and Donovan, of course, never got a chance.  Still, I think it’s okay.  I think he’s never far away from them.  The man who had nothing but daughters and no grandson until the end of his life  would never be far from his three great-grandsons, now, would he?

Violets for my Grandfather

So in a couple of weeks, I start putting out the garden.  And I’ll stand outside, looking at it, and I’ll talk to my grandfather for a while.  Out in that spot where I let the little wild violets grow.  I won’t let Scott mow them until they’re done.  See, other than magnolias, I believe those were his favorite.  Grandaddy never mowed that spot until they were done blooming.  My grandmother used to say he’d dig them up from other parts of the yard and put them all together. We follow the same rule here.  Well, not about the moving, but the mowing.

I’ll hope I don’t embarrass him too much and that he’ll forgive my imperfections.  I’m sure he will.  Though he’ll tease me a bit.  I can hear him now, telling God about his crazy grand daughter, using that nickname he insisted on calling me.  And he and God will smile and laugh.

I love you, Grandaddy.

Let’s see….not much of anything.  Time outside with Donovan.  Haven’t started moving the lilies yet.  That starts today.  Looking forward to it and not looking forward to it at the same time.  Alot of work, but will be worth it when the new front walk is finished.  And the lilies will be in a better place than in holding areas.

Painting some in the kitchen.  Just taking it piece at a time.  No rush.  Sort of fun that way.  Got the shelves where my jars go painted and shelf liner put down.  I don’t use canisters but a variety of empty jars instead.  Kinda gives it that old kitchen feel in a way.  Besides, I like having my flour in the big gallon glass jars I can see through.  I have labels on them for now, but will come up with a design I can use for all of them based on the colors in the kitchen and the Heart’s Keep theme.

My favorite job of the week has been the ancestry search.  I’ve found information I never thought I’d locate and have been talking to a distant cousin I didn’t know existed.  Found out afterward that my grandmother talks to her great uncle on a regular basis.  Shows how in touch we all are sometimes.  We’re going to make an attempt to get together and search some cemeteries.  There’s some information we both want and it seemed like a nice idea to get together and search.  May drag Mom along, too.

When I was younger, none of this seemed so important.  In fact, I laughed at the idea of researching all of this.  Now, it’s like finding pieces of my family.  I know I could pay someone to do it, but seriously, it’s so much more fun to search through the records myself.  I get so so excited when I find something new.  And I’ve researched things that I never thought about.  I mean, when I read that one of my ancestors was a mechanic on a base in 1850, my first thought was, “What would a mechanic do in 1850?”

Putting the pieces in place myself has been such a fantastic experience.  And through it, I’ve met some people that I know will be  a part of my life for a long time.  Like Harold, who is related to me from ages back before one of my ancestors changed the spelling of my maiden name.  Christmas cards every year.  Emails about family members from his side.  Someone who actually may have information on my paternal grandmother’s family.  And a relative who, like me, is searching for someone they know exists but has a huge gap in their information.  Have to love those.

I’ve made mistakes.  Like marrying someone to two different brothers and in the process of trying to fix it, causing breaks in my tree it may take me YEARS to figure out.  And the occasional mix up in who really is related and who isn’t.  But I think that’s just all part of the fun.  And someday, maybe the boys will have an easier go at figuring out who they are.

Going through old files, I found some things that Scott had kept I believed were long gone.  Reminds me how much I love him and how lost I would be without him.  And how much I miss my feeble attempts at writing…

There are days in our marriage that are hard.  Days that are only mindless and ordinary.  But from being in a bad marriage, I understand more just how precious a good marriage is and how lucky I am he found me.  Or I found him.

I believe that God understood me and knew what I needed when I didn’t understand myself.  How wonderful is that?  Quite a gift to receive when you didn’t know you needed it.

So for my husband, whom I adore and cherish more than I ever thought possible…

I love you, Scott Alan….Always….

Finding Me…

I found myself the other day in a place most unlikely
not hidden in the back of my own mind,
cowering in a corner as I had suspected I would do.
Not overexposed in the boisterous words tumbling from my mouth, as I had so feared I would do.
Not limboed in some point on the brink of sanity, teetering on a wall as I had been told I would do.
But protected in the warmth of another source
safely kept, as I had so dreamed I would do
I found myself the other day in your eyes.

On Trusting Again…

I answered questions I did not know that I had asked~
Until I saw the answers there in black and white..
I felt the impact of their every word come at me in a wave~
So strong I could not help but wonder if the force might carry me away..
Yet I knew that I was stronger than before I asked the questions
I realized that I had ridden that wave too many times
Too much to fear the impact it would have upon my life
So I simply rode the wave
Into the part of me I had not known
Discovering not an end but a beginning to my life
And all the dreams that I had known

Well, it’s been a long day and I’m exhausted and trying to convince myself to get up and exercise.  Didn’t get to last night because Donovan and Scott were in the middle of the floor playing a game.  Tonight, I’m telling myself I have no choice.  My brain’s listening, but the rest of me knows better.

And the sad news.  Ducks won’t be here until May at the earliest.  Apparently, to get ducks early, you’ve gotta order them a year in advance.  Crazy stuff!  A year ago, I didn’t even care about ducks.  So…I may have to sneak a duck into the house before then.  Seriously.  I’ve thought about ducks and thought about ducks and now I want a DUCK!

Off for spring break this coming week.  Things to do…more than I’d like to think about.  Going to break it down to simple tasks.  Tomorrow, just a normal grocery day.  And from there….well…we’ll see.  The week will go by too fast and I’ll wonder what happened before it’s over. Need to post some recipes so I don’t lose them.  But right now…exercise calls….

When the entire world is crashing and there’s no place left to turn,

When your life keeps on revolving and you’re spinning out of control,

When no one understands the torments of your heart,

When even the simplest of things becomes a dark cloud looming over head,

When nothing makes sense in the dismal fog of reality….

Dream…

Look, I’ve been very patient about the whole thing.  I mean, when I started with the Heart’s Keep, it was supposed to be on a jar, ya know?  Nice little logo I could put on my jars that we give away.  Something cute with some meaning.  And the man in my life said, “Yeah, I can do that.  Just find something roughly like you want and I’ll throw it together.”

So I did.  I found the castle I wanted.  Found just the right heart.  Saved them on the file server (Wait, doesn’t everybody’s house have a file server?) and reminded him it was there.  Then, I waited patiently.  And then I waited some more.  And then I reminded again.  More waiting.  Another reminder.  One more waiting period.  And yet a bit more reminding.  Still no logo.

So now, I’ve decided to get away from Facebook.  Nothing wrong with it, I suppose, but whatever purpose I thought it would serve in my life is past.  When I started this site, it was with the intention of keeping family things here.  Facebook took that away somehow.  It limited me to short little statements and distracted me more than it encouraged me.  Soooo…away it goes.  Account stays open.  Just have it set up so that this goes there.  And that will have to do.

Shut down a bunch of stuff there, get my pictures posted here the way I want them.  Work on my ancestry and post about it here.  I think this will work better.  At least for now.  Because I really miss writing.  And it’s been a long time.  So maybe if I step away from all of that, I’ll get that part back.  Who knows.  I may not like what I find.  But I’ll never know if I don’t try.

And how does all of that tie into my logo?  Well, if I’m going to be here instead of there…. I WANT MY LOGO!!!!  ‘Nuff said.

You know, it’s funny.  Christie was the dog we didn’t choose to live with us but came as a foster and just never left.  The mixed feelings I have about her going are confusing and a little uncomfortable at times.  We loved her.  How can you not love someone who is so devoted and needs to be loved so badly?  But it wasn’t like some of the other fosters we had in the  past.

Christie was so needy.  She’d been through so much in her life.  She was happy, but at the same time, there was an anxiousness about her.  She always seemed to be on the lookout, a little uncertain, worried, lost, never quite settled.  Here with us, she found a place where she could at least be comfortable.  There were some scrambles with the other dogs, but for the most part, life was peaceful.  We crated her as little as possible; and while there was a period when she felt more comfortable in a crate, the last 3 years, she was no longer attached to it.  A great thing for a dog who had been kept in one constantly at the mill. She loved to spread out in the floor and just lay there.  She liked a soft bed, though she had a tendency to chew on them.  Christie….was Christie.

Looking back over those last couple of weeks, I think there were some signs and we just mistook them for other things.  Suddenly, she wasn’t able to go all night without peeing in her crate.  She actually peed in the floor a couple of times.  The other dogs got on her nerves more.  She was more talkative than usual.  The shaking was a bit worse.  But with a dog like her, sometimes, you mistake things for just being who she is.

No matter what, Christie was happy.  That was always the case.  She was happy to be alive and happy to have a place to lie in the sun or in the shade.  To stand on the deck by the puppy door and survey her world.  Christie was just happy to be.

In our minds, I think, she was a permanent foster.  We took her when she had no place else to go.  We gave her another chance when all of her chances seemed to be used up.  We bought her time to see what the world should have been like.  And yesterday as we held her and watched her slip away, I think she loved us back.  She passed with people who loved her, held her, talked to her, who chose to be with her.  And in the end, I think for any of us, that’s what matters.  We should all be so lucky.

Added June 11, 2010 – Rather than editing this article, I would like to add this brief statement.  The rats that I thought were rats weren’t rats at all, but voles.  I didn’t even know what a vole was until now, though I’d heard of them.  They’re much cuter than rats, but very destructive.  If I change rats to voles, my letter of apology won’t mean as much to the rats.  Soooooo it stays.  But it wasn’t rats.  It was voles.  With a “v.’  Not an “m.”  They don’t look alike at all.  Moles and voles.  Or voles and rats. Or rats and moles.  Oh, well.  Enough rambling. Apologies again to the rats.  But not the voles.

I’m all in favor of live and let live.  Until it comes to weeds and rats and mice.  Can’t forget those mice.

With the rain coming in sporadic buckets rather than nice showers, the weeds are growing faster than I can keep up.  And trying to get them out of the sugar snap peas is ridiculous.  If I don’t find a better way to deal with those stupid things, I’m not growing them any more.  Seriously, I’m done with them.

And as for the rats… Ya know, I like rodents.  Always have. Even the mice in the basement?  I hate having to kill them.  But they don’t seem to learn that my stuff isn’t their stuff.  And then, there are the rats.

When we first saw a rat outside back in the winter, Stormy had it hanging out of her mouth.  Later, there was one sitting out at the pile of junk we keep building on as we work around here.  I said something about getting rid of them; and Scott being Scott, the lover of all creatures, sort of cringed and said okay.

But nothing happened.  Then, they ate my peas before they could germinate and my strawberries before we could pick them and that meant war.  And BIG BIG traps.  And 3 dead rats. All was quiet for a while.

Until this week.  My potatoes started coming in.  The rats?  They like potatoes.  ALOT. So they ate them.  This time the little monsters were braver.  They’d sit and LOOK at me while they ate my potatoes.  Hey, anybody who’s watched Ratatouille knows rats eat everything and anything.  Only these didn’t seem willing to share their cooking secrets, just chew up half of a perfectly good potato.  Never eat the whole thing, mind you.  Just half so you knew they’d been to visit.  Somehow, that doesn’t seem very efficient.  I mean, wouldn’t you just eat the whole thing?  But, raw potatoes?  You’re really not supposed to eat those anyway.  Doesn’t seem to bother the rats, though.  War started again.  4 more dead rats.  And a mouse.  Casualty of war.  But then again….

While moving things around for the new summer harvest setup, I discovered a mouse in one of my bushel baskets. I picked up a stack of baskets and he was in the bottom one.  How could I see him in the bottom one if it was a stack?  Because he’d chewed through the other two baskets! So off to Tractor Supply for new baskets.  Grumbling, muttering, thinking bad things about Fievel, Stuart Little, and every other mouse I’ve ever heard of.

So that’s been my week.  The bright spots?  Chickens love the weeds and grass I pull and take to them.  Makes them happy.  Rats are about gone for now.  Veggies are starting to come in.  And the mice?  They’ve moved back into the basement.  Not such a bright spot for me, but they seem to be happy about it.

Well…you can’t win every battle.