Grand-dog visit

Today we have an extra dog in our house. Jade belongs to our daughter Rachel and her family. She’s been with us before. Coming here is like a vacation for Jade, but not for our cats.

Though Jade is an aged dog, she still reacts when she sees any of our cats. To keep the peace, we make sure our inside cats are locked upstairs while the puggle visits. It’s not a real hardship for the cats. They have a comfortable space, food, and water. They also can sleep with us at night. It just bothers them more that they can’t roam the whole house as usual.

Jade takes a cat bed for herself.

Jade doesn’t move fast unless a cat sneaks out and comes into view, then she races across the room. Good thing the cats are faster. Still, it is best if the cats remain confined upstairs. Most of Jades time here is spent sleeping, kind of the way our cats do, so they have a lot in common.

Happy Father’s Day

Like others, our children have been wishing their dad, Happy Father’s Day today. Two of our children were able to visit us on the farm. Others sent wishes and phoned. All four were extremely happy that they were able to send their love. Last winter no one was sure Bob would live long enough to celebrate another Father’s Day.

Some of the things Bob was able to give to his children over the years include a good work ethic and patience. Bob’s frustrations were only exhibited when he worked on his old machinery, not when he was with his children. When a wrench slipped, Bob swore, but only if no one else was in earshot–he often forgot that we could hear him through the floor when he was working in his basement workspace. Hearing him lose his temper always made our children laugh because it showed their dad was human and could express emotions, too.

Robby, Becky, and Daddy Bob 1980

Today, we want to wish Bob a Happy Father’s Day and hopefully for many more years to come.

Blooming bush

I love perennials. They come back every year, well mostly. Some just don’t work for me. I can’t get daisies to grow in my garden, yet they grow wild in our ditches. Daffodils never return to bloom for me no matter what I do, same with alliums. Good thing I do have others that don’t hate me.

It looked like my grandmother had alliums in her flower garden. She never told her neighbors what she grew. Of course, she told me. The big round heads were onions gone to seed.

This week my bridal wreath is blooming. Last year it didn’t do so well. Half of it seemed to be dead. This year it is full–I have to look close to see any of last years deadwood.

Bridal-wreath closeup eliminates any view of weeds.

Too bad it won’t bloom all summer long. Since it won’t, I will appreciate its beauty now.

A quick drive

Today Bob and I drove down to see our daughter Rachel and our grandchildren. Rachel reminded us that we hadn’t been there since last September. Of course, the reason was that her dad had been so sick. Now that things are better we are able to get around more–this was our farthest trip from home this year.

During our visit, we were entertained by two piano recitals.

Eli played first–notice the ball on the piano
Arianna played second–usually you find a book in her hand. Eli’s a reader, too.

It was great to hear them play. Before lunch, we tackled a board game which also included Wyatt. Afterward, we talked all three grandchildren into taking a photo with us.

Susan
Wyatt, Grandpa, Arianna, and Eli
Rachel snapped us having fun.

It’s so nice to know we can travel, even if we did have to have an alarm on so Bob wouldn’t miss his chemo pills at 11. We will probably do some more visiting this summer…but maybe not outside of Wisconsin.

Just like Bob

Bob is taking on some chores he hasn’t done in months. One chore that he won’t do again is collect chicken eggs. That’s one thing he is not volunteering to do again. It’s all up to me now.

Today, I only found one egg in the nests. Since I had to toss out chicken feed before leaving, I put the egg in my sweatshirt pocket–I should have taken it right to the house.

Something distracted me. Instead of tending to the egg, I started pulling weeds by the barn.

After working for half an hour, I felt something liquid on my upper leg. The egg had smashed in my pocket.

My next chore was to wash my sweatshirt.

When I told Bob about my mishap he smiled and said, “At least, it wasn’t me this time.”

Eggs that made it to the kitchen, including one supersized one.
At least the double joker didn’t break in Susan’s pocket.

I will try to remember not to do this again, but I can’t guarantee I’ll always do the correct thing. Such is life.