It all depends on where you live and how you measure.
We have a rain gauge on Sunny’s pen. This day we had 3/4s of an inch.
Bob used to talk about his grandfather. In days gone by, they compared the amount of rain measured at their homes. No matter the storm, Grandpa always had more rain, even when he lived next door.
How could this be?
It was the way Bob’s grandfather measured. His rain gauge wasn’t like the Manzkes’.
This was Grandpa’s rain gauge…
…his wheelbarrow.
Of course, he always had more rain.
This method brought a measurement of 2 inches, not 3/4 inch. The day that I took these photos, the guages were about twenty feet apart.
Grandpa never saw the need for a calibrated rain gauge. He liked his wheelbarrow method, which he used all his life.
So, how do you measure the rain coming into your yard? Rain gauge? Wheelbarrow? Teacup?
I’ve been working on setting another collection of my columns in book form. Now that most of my words are digitized, I’m looking to add photos.
I found a photo book from 1982-83 that will work. Now comes the hard part, selecting ones to include.
two pages from 1983
Then scanning them, as nothing was digital back then.
This takes time but also brings back good memories. Often my scanning process pauses as I reminisce. My book may take longer to put together because of these long pauses, but in today’s world taking time to remember family times is a good thing.
A certain young grandson has a peanut allergy. When Wyatt comes for a visit all peanut products are stored in cabinets.
I read labels so when I bake cookies to share with grandchildren, I do not include anything with even the possibility of peanut contamination. Food labels highlight use of peanuts and if the product is made in a factory where peanuts are put into other products.
Cross-contamination isn’t good for Wyatt. This I learned the last time he and his family visited.
Rachel was making Wyatt a jelly sandwich. She found a jelly in the fridge he didn’t dislike and thought about using it. Then she asked me, “Do you ever put your knife in the jelly after putting peanut butter on your toast?”
“Yes,” was my answer. This is a no-no. We had cross-contaminated the jelly with peanut butter. Even a tiny bit could cause Wyatt a reaction.
I don’t remember what we did about Wyatt’s jelly sandwich that day, maybe we opened a new jar, even so, I’ve been changing my BAD habit ever since.
I still eat peanut butter,
I no longer put my contaminated knife in any other container, especially the jelly,
I use a separate spoon for the jelly or have squeezable jelly for my company to use. The squeezable container doesn’t need a knife.
I am doing this even though no one is visiting me at this time. It is a good habit I want to keep so there will never be any peanut butter mistakes in the future.
Using separate utensils in the jelly jars is something everyone can do. Then if you have company with a peanut allergy you know your jelly is safe to share.
I was looking through some old photos and I came across a photo of my Grandma Jo and her sister Mary. The odd thing about this photo is that it is ripped.
I don’t know when that happened, probably a long time ago, but I have the photo and I thought I say something about my relatives.
Grandma Jo is on the left and her sister Mary is on the right – Maybe late 1940s or 50s.
Notice that both women are wearing hats. It was what women did back in the old days. Things changed after the Catholic church didn’t require hats at mass.
I loved both these ladies. Grandma Jo was the best cook ever. She even made wedding cakes. One time, when I was about ten, I helped take a cake to a reception. I don’t know how the large part of the cake was moved, but I was sat down in the back seat of a car and handed the top tier of the cake.
This was a great responsibility and I was scared to death that I’d ruin her beautiful cake. I guess the cake arrived in good condition because I don’t remember getting yelled at for messing up.
Aunt Mary and her husband, Val, always wanted to adopt me, and they weren’t kidding. They couldn’t have children so they pestered my parents to let them have me or my sister–Mary and Val never adopted anyone.
I remember going to their home and having orange juice (and other snacks). I especially remember the orange juice because Aunt Mary had little glasses and a pitcher with oranges painted on them. It made me feel so special drinking juice out of those glasses.
When both Grandma Jo and Aunt Mary were old, they lived together for a while–I don’t remember how long. What I do remember was that the two women sounded like my sister and me. They didn’t always agree and argued some. Hearing those two ‘saints’ disagree made me laugh. They seemed so much more human to me at those times.
I don’t know where this photo was taken or when, but I’m happy that it wasn’t thrown away. There are still good memories there to go around.
Saving a little family history doesn’t have to be long or hard. Even a snippet like this has its benefits.
