Thursday, March 28, 2024

Winter Returns...30º

 Keeping positive thoughts that the sun will break through a few times today...Wallowa County always has a difficult time getting in Spring Mode...It is a good think that spring flowers are resilient!

Yesterday was a busy day for me, grocery shopping first, acupuncture, then blood draw to test my thyroid, then home to put groceries away and prep veggies before putting them in the fridge.

Blood draws are always a bit sketchy for me, depending on the latest phlebotomist, that maybe needs more practice, or the familiar smiling face as J.....a greets me...I breath a sigh of relief...I've started taking precautions before going to the lab, after years of repeat pokings, trying to find a vein that produces blood...My acupuncture friends assist me in this endeavor...I take a surgical glove (bought many years ago at a yard sale) and give it to Terry, who, after my acupuncture treatment, fills it with hot water and ties a knot...I manage to hold this "giggley" thing on my hand (where my best vein is) drive a mile, check in and by then my veins are warm and begging to be poked!..Hugs to All  OWAV:)

I went looking for a bitmoji of a blood draw and came up with a "Bloody Mary."  Maybe i'll try that next time instead of the "giggley glove."  I'll bet Nathan can make a "Wicked Bloody Mary."

Tuesday, March 26, 2024

Bridge collapse in Baltimore...30º, Cloudy

My friend Pat, who lives in Maryland, text me this morning about a collapsed bridge, when a ship hit the bridge...The Key Bridge went down like dominos...The following link is a video of the collapse and more info...I don't have TV, so don't normally see this kind of news, maybe many of you have already seen it...I hope the link works. I can't help but think of all the bridges in Portland OR. Gives me shivers... https://twitter.com/DrEricDing/status/1772518180717572110?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Etweet

Life is moving along here on Barton Heights, cooler temperatures with little moisture has slowed things a bit, but the aspen trees are starting to get their little "fuzzys", crocus are blooming and the garlic is about 4 inches tall...Rusty is working on building new garden beds for our summer veggies so they will be easier for me to harvest, not raised way up, but narrow enough that I can reach the middle from both sides..Hope that makes sense.

I love watching the flower beds gradually come to life, after being frozen and buried under snow for the winter months...It is always such a miracle...First the crocus, then starry twinkles and grape hyacinths... Soon the daffodils will be dancing in the morning sun...I love spring...Hugs To All...OWAV:)

Garlic will be ready in July.

Sunday, March 24, 2024

A scenic day...34º Winter returns.

 Possible snow, a reality this morning...It is only a smattering and will melt in no time and after all it is spring break and it can be crappy weather in March!

Rusty and I went on an adventure yesterday...It all started because I wanted to go to a memorial service in Wallowa and since it was rainy, Rusty decided/begged to come along...His first mistake was putting me in the navigation seat...He should have asked Bobi, Pam, or Sue if that was a good idea...I'm notorious in this family for my sense of direction, or lack thereof, reading a map, googling maps on my iPhone and relating to the driver which way we are going or should be going...If only Herb was still here, he would have told him that it wouldn't work, he had many experiences with me holding the map upside down and possibly it was a map of Idaho and we were in Arizona! OH MY

Carol is a new friend of mine from water therapy, she was a newbie, I was an old timer...But from the moment we heard each other say, "my husband has dementia," we were each others rock...At first "the guys" came with us, Herb was in the water, Greg sat alongside the pool reading a book, then things changed, they would rather stay home, where they felt safe and it worked for awhile...Carol and I would talk, trading stories of what it was like at home and then we would float around the pool, letting our minds go free, not a care in the world, until we dressed, drove back home to the real world...

Our days at the pool ended but we kept in touch, texting...Herb was needing more care at home, we no longer left him alone, Rusty moved home...Carol text me that she was moving them to the valley, more care centers, more family nearby...I text her when Herb passed away and she let me know that Gregs memorial would be in March.

I didn't know Greg but wanted to go, to connect with Carol...We arrived at the memorial at their beautiful home atop a hill, a home that they had built together...We were only an hour late, a huge crowd filled the house and patio, we got in line, filled our plates and sat down at a table...I picked Carols face out of the crowd and as soon as possible made my way to exchange hugs, share a few words and promise to keep in touch...All was good.

Rusty and I saw new country, laughed a lot, scratched our heads at the roads we were on, backtracked twice, never said a cross word to each other, but I think he knows not to put me in the seat to navigate ever again...Hugs To All...OWAV:)

Bread ready for the oven
was perfect to take to 
the potluck.

Saturday, March 23, 2024

A Long Break...Possible rain/snow, 42º

 Taking a break always sounds like a good idea, but then I find it difficult to start writing again...Sharing my memories of life long ago is fun for me and seems to be entertaining for my readers...As I talked to friends and they related their childhood, I've come to realize that I was indeed lucky/blessed to have the upbringing that I did. 

To have unconditional love, a safe haven at home, the best homegrown, homemade food, a clean house and healthy environment, living on a small farm...We all worked hard, never went on a vacation, but I had the freedom of walking, riding a bike or horse with abandon, 400 acres was my playground...My restraints were, up by 5:30am to milk the cows and be home ready to milk cows again at 5:30pm.

The summers were filled with farming the ground and harvesting the crops, that took all of the daylight hours...Summers also included relatives visiting, farm style dinners, a table laden with food to feed the haying crew, swimming/bathing in Boulder Creek to wash away the itchy hay chaff...After a super of bread and milk, we fell into a bed between line dried sheets, to refresh our bodies for another day.  

Winters were endless days of shoveling snow, feeding animals and keeping barns clean, (shoveling manure) hauling wood to keep our house warm...The smell of fresh baked bread, cinnamon rolls, greeted us after a long day...Sometimes pies topped off with our own whipped cream was a special occasion ...For many years we heated water, filled a round tub in the middle of the kitchen floor, for our weekly bath before we snuggled between those freeze dried sheets, and slept the night away breathing in that smell, that no one can reproduce!..Fun playing in the mountainous snow was a team of horses hooked to a bobsled, with us sitting on hay bales, wrapped in blankets, we skimmed over fences, breathing frozen air, with frosty eyebrows and red noses...It was and idyllic childhood, that I am forever thankful for.  Hugs To All...OWAV:) 

Random photos, Lake Fork, Idaho...In the shadow of Jughandle mountain.





Wednesday, February 21, 2024

The Last 15 Years...Sunny February Day 31º

 Most of the time on my trips to Elgin, I spent the night. Before I left for home the next day, Mom and I sat on her porch overlooking the backyard and garden and reminisced about life in Lake Fork, Bountiful and now Elgin, surveying all that we had accomplished. I remember a rather grueling day working in the flowerbeds, trimming trees and washing windows. She, at eighty-seven, kept up with me most of the morning and was upset that she finally had to stop and rest, saying “I do pretty good in the morning but I’m not worth a damn after noon.”  Now, sitting on the porch, she looked at me with that wistful look in her eyes.  I wasn’t sure what she was thinking and then she said, “Oh Della, if I was only ten years younger, just ten years, think what I could do.”  

I couldn’t help myself as I burst our laughing, and I said, “Mom, if you’re going to wish, then wish for at least twenty years!”  Then we both had a good laugh.

When she reached the age of ninety, George said, “Mom I can do your mowing and tilling now, I think you’ve done it long enough.”  For once she didn’t argue.


Mom lived in the little house in Elgin for fifteen years.   Happy and content, she took care of herself, taking pride in cooking a hot meal everyday.  Most often she ate alone but other times children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews or great grandchildren came to visit, share her dinner and listen to her many stories.  Memory was never a problem for Mom.  

At ninety-six, her physical health deteriorated, she was hospitalized and diagnosed with congestive heart failure.  After a short hospital stay, I brought her home.  Barely able to walk with a cane, the next morning she was determined to mix a batch of bread.  As she turned from the sink after “punching” the bread down, her hip gave way and she dropped to the floor.  

A broken hip, three weeks in a Boise, Idaho hospital, then to a care center with the hopes that with rehab she could walk again and go home.  The three weeks that Mom spent at the hospital she held “court,” entertaining everyone that visited her.  She was in charge, her wit never better, and her memory unfailing.  Her mind still sharp, she called the many doctors and nurses by name and never complained no matter how much they poked and prodded.  Instead of a hip replacement, the doctors decided to repair the hip by inserting screws to keep it in place.  After the surgery, as she lay in recovery, the doctor explained that the surgery went well and told her exactly what he did.  When she could have visitors, she would show them her new scars and say, “Can you believe it, I was drugged and screwed in the hospital.”  We listened to her stories and we laughed and cried, but she never shed a tear.

  I think back to one of the days as we sat on the back porch reminiscing, when I asked her: “Mom why didn’t you marry after Daddy’s death?  Forty years is a long time to live alone.”  She leaned back in her chair, her fingers bent and crooked from arthritis. She pushed the hair off her forehead and with a dreamy look in her eyes she replied, “I figured the years I was married to your Dad I had cream and I wasn’t about to settle for skim milk with some other guy.”  

Mom died on July 17, 2005 at her little home in Elgin.  Family and friends gathered at the McCall, Idaho cemetery for her graveside service where she was laid to rest next to her husband and true love, “Whistlin’ Joe.” The end...Hugs to All...OWAV:)  


Photos from happy years in Lake Fork.






Tuesday, February 20, 2024

Building a relationship...

Mom “taught” me the joys of pressure canning in 1992. She was eighty-three.   After driving sixty miles, I arrived early at her house and was greeted with the smell of meat cooking, the sound of the pressure cooker “hissing away” and her voice, saying, “Della, it’s about time you got here, I already have one canner on the stove and another one almost ready. We wouldn’t be done until midnight if I waited to start until you arrived!” 

I gave her a hug, smiled and said, “I got here as quickly as I could.” 

 Our canning continued throughout the day and into the evening, stopping only for lunch. We boned the turkey meat, washed and sterilized jars, filled jars, and screwed the lids on tight. The processing time for meat is 75 minutes per batch and the pressure gauge must be closely watched to keep it in the normal range.  The pressure cooker held 18 pint jars and in one day we filled it 3 times. We admired the fruits of our labor as finally we rested, played cards and kept close watch on the last cooker of the day. By bedtime that night, 54 pint jars of turkey sat cooling on the counter. 

It had always been easier for Mom to do the canning, rather than be the teacher, but now she let me do the heavy lifting and watched closely as I prepared meat to fill the jars.  I can still hear her voice as she said, “Della, I think this jar needs more meat or are you sure we only have thirty more minutes before the pressure cooker is done?”  I wrote down directions, step-by-step, so when the time came, I could do the job myself. 

 The year she turned ninety and I fifty-seven, she made the decision to send her beloved pressure cooker home with me.  For the next five years, I took small jars of whatever I canned to her and she always admired them as she had her own.  But I could see the longing in her eyes and hear it in her voice when she said, “I wish I could help with the canning.”  

“Yes, Mom it was more fun when we could do it together.” 

We had finally found a common ground and enjoyed our time together.  I realized how glad I was that she made that last move.  I still use that 80-year-old pressure cooker to preserve food for my family and teach my own children and husband the joys of preserving food. Dumpster diving isn’t allowed anymore, but my granddaughter is already a pro looking for bargains at thrift stores and her mother is teaching her the art of canning. to be continued  Hugs To All...OWAV:)


 A 4 generation photo,
Della, Bobi, Gramma Great, 
and Cienna

Monday, February 19, 2024

The Last Move...31º foggy

 After a couple of years, Mom, being the independent one, decided that she again wanted a home of her own and talked to George about property in Elgin, Oregon where he lived.  He found a small house with a garden spot and fruit trees, located less than a mile from him and only sixty miles from where I lived.  The small house needed major renovation to make it livable. George and I, with the help of Mom’s grandkids, enlarged the bathroom and added new fixtures. George’s daughters pitched in to clean and paint the inside of the house. Appliances installed, drapes hung and new carpet laid throughout.  

In August of 1990, Mom, eighty-one years old, made her last move. I can’t say that I was happy about the move.  Mom and I had never been close: she was not affectionate like Daddy and she was jealous when my sisters and I openly loved Daddy more than her.  He was easy to love, she was not.  Mom could be very demanding and controlling and at eighty years old I wasn’t sure how self-sufficient she would be. As she aged, more health issues would appear and I knew that it would fall to me to care for her. My brother was recently divorced and living with Clair, but not married, much to Mom’s dismay.  Both of them had a history of drinking too much and I knew problems could arise from that.  Red flags were flying all around my head.  I decided not to worry about something I had no control over and take one day at a time.

Most of my worry was for naught.  The next ten years, Mom did most of her own gardening, which included using the roto-tiller and mowing her lawn.  She hired help with the housework.  We developed a pattern of George and Clair helping her with certain things and Herb and I helping her with others. Extended family members were always available if we needed more help. I made bimonthly trips to Elgin taking her to doctor appointments and grocery shopping in nearby La Grande. Her favorite place for lunch was “Kentucky Fried Chicken” because the food was always hot, filling and inexpensive.

I worked side by side with her, planting and weeding new flowerbeds.  We harvested vegetables, made pickles and turned apples into applesauce. I brought starts home from her flowerbeds and soon planted gardens of my own; with her encouragement I learned more about gardening and began to see the joy it could bring. 

Mom loved preserving food and especially liked pressure-cooking meat.  She bought turkeys on sale at Thanksgiving time, kept them in the freezer until late winter, then thawed and boned them, packed them in jars and processed them in a vintage pressure cooker bought shortly after she and Daddy were married.  She cherished her old pressure cooker, thoroughly washing and drying it before placing it back in storage, as though it were a diamond ring too precious to wear everyday. Along with making jam, canning peaches and pears, and making pickles, I was about to learn how to pressure can meat.to be continued...Hugs To All.,,OWAV:)